


Bitty of Goose Lake

by itsybitsybitty



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Swan Lake Fusion, Bitty lives in the Haus first year, Grinding, Happy Ending, M/M, References to substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-10-20 12:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 37,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsybitsybitty/pseuds/itsybitsybitty
Summary: As freshman Eric Bittle leaves the only world he knows behind, he finds a new home at Samwell University where an interesting cast of characters await. Besides juggling his classes, being on an NCAA hockey team, and perfecting his baking skills there's also The Goose. Chill, blue-eyed, and probably sentient, Eric finds an unlikely feathered friend during the day. By moonlight, Eric begins to fall for a dark-haired student who attends night classes, always meeting him by The Pond. Little does Bitty know he's a hockey prince's last chance at freedom and love in this Swan Lake inspired AU.





	1. A Goodbye and Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all!  
> If you squint, it’s very loosely based on Barbie of Swan Lake (which I kinda stole the title from). A superb film. I honestly just came up with this when I was RPing and someone said they’d read this as a fic. Okay then. I’ll try my hand.  
> Check the end notes for more!

With all the care of a doting father, Eric Bittle slid the peach pie from the oven. It smelled heavenly, the sugary crust caramelizing on the top. “Oh, c’mere, gorgeous,” he praised the pie as he placed it on a nearby window sill, fanning it as a sweet Georgia wind ruffled the curtains and his hair.

This was home.

Dancing around the kitchen to his Spotify playlist: Y’all Hail the Queen B, Eric picked up some biscotti that had been cooling, doing a bit of a twirl as he set the tray down to drizzle chocolate over. Completely free in his family’s bakery, he spun with his arms outstretched, his socks sliding across the hard wood floors, as though he were on ice where he felt the most free.

    “Dicky!” The music stopped abruptly and Eric was caught, turning to see his mother, still wrapped up in her robe, makeup-less, and certainly coffee-less standing beside his speaker, her finger resolutely on the pause button. “It’s seven in the morning, sugar. We have to leave for Massachusetts by noon, what are you doin’?”

    Caught, Eric looked at the assortment of baking goods around him before looking at his feet. “I...couldn’t sleep. I guess the music got too loud, sorry.” Three pies, four cakes, and a smattering of candies and treats and the Bittle Bakery would certainly be full with his unique bakes. “Sorry, Mama. I’m just so nervous.”

    “Why? You’re a lovely dancer.” His mother teased as she began the coffee maker, the familiar groan and grind of the percolator starting up. “You should go down and line dance in the town with your cousins next time you’re home.”

    Eric laughed once, without humor. “And have everybody stare and gossip about me?” The thought of all of those Ralston and Coulter boys made Eric nearly want to puke, “I couldn’t. Not again.”

    A gentle, soft hand fell on Eric’s shoulder, guiding his gaze up from the floor. His mother’s patient face, filled with love and acceptance nearly made Eric cry. “It’ll be different where you’re going, baby. I know it will be. So chin up and show those Yankees how baking’s done.”

    “I promise, Mama. Chin up.”

 

    Chin up had become Eric’s mantra through any challenging situation that August as he became a college student at Samwell University. It helped him through saying goodbye to his parents, his first day of classes, and, scarily enough, move-in day.

Normally, Eric would be slated to live in the college dorms until he was in his sophomore year on the Samwell Hockey Team or somehow had a chance to live there. But a DM from one of the players, goalie and philosophy major Johnson, that one of the rooms had become available in the Haus was sent to him right after he was invited to play on scholarship.  What was the Haus? As soon as Eric stepped inside it seemed filled with questionable health code violations, a teetering infrastructure, and a whole lotta hockey bros.

It was Johnson himself who showed the freshman into his room, across from his. “Yeah, this is where your love interest from an alternate universe would have been. Well, it wouldn’t technically be his room when you finally got together. But on graduation day? Eh, it’s a grey area. It’s more convenient for the plot that you live in the Haus rather than a random dorm. More comedic possibilities, side character antics. Keep ‘em coming back for more, you understand. Well, enjoy. I’ll be over here as one of the many largely silent supporting characters, keep being a protagonist in your own AU.”

To which Eric vaguely nodded, more startled at how Johnson seemed to know he was gay right off the bat. “Chin up.” He murmured to himself as he unpacked, oblivious to just how much his life would change before the end of this year.

 

For one thing, he was getting more practice baking in the Haus than he even did at home. His mother’s recipes were law back in Madison, but here? Here, he was able to change things up, add more vanilla, a pinch of cardamom, a zest of orange or lime. And the boys ate it up. Literally.  It seemed like everything was going well in those early fall days. He’d met the D-men, the inseparable duo of Holster and Ransom, the eclectic Shitty, and a cast of characters that Eric was already immediately fond of.

Even if they ate more baked goods than the people of Madison during Fourth of July weekend.

“Y’all are gonna eat me out of house and home, now get!” Eric finally chased off the boys away from his kitchen as he packed up his book bag. “I’m headed to the Quad, okay? I need to head to Founder’s and the Student Center. No one eat my organic eggs or the Reddi-whip, okay?” He called out to the boys lazing around on a bright fall morning.

Eric was going to pretend he didn’t hear, “No promises.” and instead took the last slice of his maple cream pie and put it in Tupperware before heading out, much to the dismay of the hockey gentlemen inside.

But who was he to complain as he began to walk out into the sunny morning, the smell of impending fall crisp in the air? He was a student on a LGBT friendly campus, surrounded by good guys who were starting to show him that jocks weren’t all the same, on a good hockey team, and ruled a kitchen of his very own.

All he needed now was someone to share it with.

Chin up.

 


	2. A Goose and a Pie

Walking along The Pond, Eric finally took a seat on a graffitied bench overlooking the pristine waters. He was going to need to get used to this walking around, he was practically out of breath. Maybe he needed to cut down on the sweets. He reached down into his book bag and pulled out the Tupperware and plastic fork he had packed, ready to chow down when something flapped in the corner of his eye. 

A goose. 

A huge Canada goose that seemed to be making a beeline right towards him. “Whoa whoa whoa!” Eric Bittle and geese did  _ not _ get along. No siree, Bob. After being pursued and pecked by countless park geese down in Georgia, Eric knew when to pick his battles and it was  _ not _ now. Eric leapt up and started off a few paces away before he realized he had left all his possessions on that bench. His book bag, his laptop, his wallet, “My pie!” He cried out as the goose dunked its head into the Tupperware and went to town on the maple cream. 

Dammit, he had used real maple, too. 

C’mon, chin up. He wasn’t going to get bossed around by a big chicken. He flapped his arms, “Go on, get outta here!” The goose didn’t bother to look up or acknowledge Eric’s presence as it sat on the bench. “Shoo, now go on!” Again, the cold shoulder. 

If only his mother could see him now, being held captive by a goose who was eating his pie. “Alright, Mr. Goose. Here’s how it’s gonna go down. You keep the pie, but I’m taking my book bag, you sneak thief.” Reaching out slowly, he snatched the book bag away from bench, clutching it to his chest as the goose continued to ignore him. 

“I didn’t even know geese ate pie.” Eric sighed, waiting now for his mother’s Tupperware. She’d gotten it at a nice party in Georgia and wouldn’t take too kindly if her son gave her back an incomplete set. With a sigh, Eric tapped his foot, “C’mon, darlin’, I need to get going.” 

The goose looked up then, catching Eric off guard, is this when the attack would come? He raised his arms a bit to protect himself, but the goose looked more startled that he had been called darlin’ than anything else. “Yes, I’m talking to you. I’ve got your attention now, huh?” Eric’s bravado was going to get the best of him one day. 

“It is rude to go around and eat other people’s pie, darlin’. Yes, rude.” The goose tilted its head, as if this was an odd occurrence.

“I guess people don’t talk to you much, huh?” Eric asked. He sighed, “Might as well keep eating, but I’m gonna sit down. And don’tchu go pecking at me or nothin’.” When frustrated, Eric’s accent became a little thick. Or was that an understatement? He sat on the bench and overlooked the pond, the sound of the water splashing against the banks calming to Eric. 

The goose kept eating as Eric sat on the very edge, waiting for the large goose to suddenly lunge and pluck out his eye or something. But no, they sat instead in companionable silence until the pie was gone. But the goose remained, fluffing out his feathers and looking out onto the water with the hockey player. “Okay, darlin’, I’m going to reach over and take that Tupperware, now, okay?” 

The goose said nothing. Because it was a goose and this was not a Disney movie, Eric reminded himself.

With a shaking hand, Eric snatched the Tupperware away. He’d have to disinfect the hell out of it, but it would be salvageable. “I’m glad you liked it. Good to know that I can even make a goose happy with my baking.” The goose looked back over to him, its head comically tilted. 

“Uh, yes darlin’,  _ I  _  baked that pie. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” Eric sighed, “I’m talking to a goose. Well, so far you’re nice to talk to.” He turned and looked down at the goose with a small smile, surprised to see that his eyes were blue. 

Eric had only ever seen white farm geese with blue eyes and even then they looked fake like a marble, these were...more than that, as beady as they were. “Isn’t that something?” He murmured. "I've got to get home, darlin' and you've got to get flying wherever you're going. Be careful, darlin'." Collecting his things, Eric waved goodbye to the black and white goose like he was a goddamn Disney princess. But Eric figured it was just polite manners. 

The goose honked once and watched Eric leave. 

  
  



	3. A Sad Story and Pie

Eric blinked, looking around the kitchen, “How are none of y’all surprised?” He asked, his voice breaking.

    Shitty shrugged, in his graphic tank top and boxers, a cold beer bottle in his hand. Ransom and Holster sipped from theirs as they tore bits off of Eric’s monkey bread. The warm August night left everyone in a sleepy and lazy mood. “That’s just The Goose, Bitty.” His hockey nickname that Eric had been surprised was chosen upon his arrival.

    “More like a ghost. A goose ghost.” Ransom chimed in, something in his voice telling Eric he was definitely afraid.

    “Hold on, hold on. So everyone is just cool with this sentient goose just sitting and eating with everyone? He had eyes like--”

    Shitty nodded, “Yeah, blue eyes. Cool dude or dudette. Totally listened to my thesis on nationally recognized sports and the trickle down of homophobia from administration to players. I think it’s the well or something. He was like totally hatched at the bottom of the well on campus and lived like fucking Bane from Batman, learning English from everyone hanging out there and climbed to the top to be part of our world.” His mustache quivered as he thought, “Or was that the Little Mermaid?”  

    Eric blinked, unable to properly respond. Instead, he looked at Ransom. “Totally has the spirit of someone who died on this campus. Like from a rager or something. Now they live on and haunt The Pond, longing to get close to someone so they can steal their body, finish their bachelor’s, and get their life back. Stay. Away.”

    Was that even more stupid than Shitty’s response? Eric couldn’t tell. Holster shrugged, “Someone from a petting zoo or 4H project probably dumped him off and he’s just used to people.”

    “Sounds about right,” Eric nodded, “ Now get going, I’ve got some chou I need to work on, and y’all have studying to do.”

    Holster and Ransom began to chant as they headed into the living room, “ _Mario Kart, Mario Kart, Mario Kart_ …”

    “If I catch y’all playing drunk Mario Kart on a weekday--” Eric’s raised voice echoed through the Haus, causing a collective shiver of fear.

 

    _It has been one year today since  the NHL world was rocked to its core. Jack Zimmermann, son of Canadiens and Penguins hockey legend Robert “Bad Bob” Zimmermann, was slated to attend the NHL Entry Draft in in late August but went missing the night before. Investigators have not ruled the disappearance suspicious but authorities and family members are no closer to answers and are urging anyone with information regarding his whereabouts to come forward and to call--_

    The TV screen went black.

    Twisting around in his seat on the green couch of horror, Eric looked up at Shitty, his finger on the power button. “That’s some sad shit, man. Heard he just got too wrapped up in the pressure, didn’t have a strong enough support system.”

    “So you think he, what, bugged out?” Eric asked, seeing how affected Shitty was by this news story.

    Shitty shrugged, “I can hope. He seemed like a good kid. It’s just…” He sighed, vaulting over the couch to sit next to the youngest player in the Haus. Late nights seemed particularly hard for the pair of them. Shitty and the new boy from Georgia. “I can relate to the pressure.” He looked forward for a moment before looking to Eric. “I met your Dad. Football coach, proud of his strong man son playing on a strong man team on scholarship.” He frowned. “He’d get along great with my dad.”

    From what Eric had learned, Shitty B. Knight may not have come from the deep South like Eric, but in a world of Old Money and big shoes to fill, the expectations their families held weren't all that different. 

    Eric could only nod, looking up at Shitty with care in his eyes, “Sounds like we got our fair share of pressure.” He agreed. “Shitty, sugar… if you ever need to talk to someone ‘bout that,  honey you tell me. I ain’t gonna be my dad. I’ll try to be a good support system for you.” They were practically strangers after only less than a month in the Haus together, but this felt like enough.

    “Thanks, bro.” He leaned forward and embraced Eric, squeezing the breath from him.”Ditto, Bitty.”

    With a patient laugh, Eric accepted the hug, patting his back awkwardly. He had never been closer to telling someone about his sexuality as he was in that moment. After the hug ended, they wandered into the kitchen to make chocolate silk pie in the kitchen, eating too much of the ingredients in the process.

    Eric hadn’t really had a best friend before, maybe a girl or two in high school who wanted a GBF. And maybe he hadn’t bared his soul on the green couch of death, but that was okay.

This felt like a start. A really good start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Goose is coming back, just taking a little break to focus on his relationship with the other people in The Haus.  
> Thank you to those who are enjoying and reading!


	4. A Hug and Pie

September came and went faster than Eric could have imagined. It was filled with classes, too much beer, baking, and drills. So many drills. Eric had never been more convinced that his calves were made of steel than when he was on the line with Shitty and his D-men, Ransom and Holster. Okay, so technically he wasn’t good enough to be on the line. Technically.

Technically, Eric Bittle shied away from all people bigger than him on the ice. Which was everyone. Technically, when he  had possession of the puck, which was often because he was so fast and good with his hands, he only skated so fast because he was petrified of being caught. 

On his way from Faber, Eric found he couldn’t go back to the Haus yet. Even though Shitty had been there with him through it all, the disappointing looks from the coaching staff, the confusion from the D-men, and, finally, the frustration of the senior class… It hurt Eric to think just how the Haus had become his second home, yet he couldn’t face half of the people there. Stomping out to the bench by The Pond, Eric threw his book bag down, his throat closed as he tried to keep his frustrations on the inside. “Damn it!” He huffed, sitting on the bench and drawing up his knees, resting his forehead there as he fought to keep the frustrated tears in. 

A honk startled Eric, jerking his head over to look down at The Goose gazing up at him from the ground. “Hey, darlin’.” He stubbornly rubbed at his eyes. “Long time no see.”

The Goose had also become a facet of Eric’s everyday life at Samwell. Well, maybe not every day, but whenever he had to run to Founder’s to get a book or head over to the Student Center (mostly to check that his scholarship hadn’t been rescinded in the tough conversations in the coaching office), Eric would stop by, vent a little, and feed The Goose what he had with him. He didn’t seem to like anything as much as he did the maple cream pie when they first met, but, oddly enough, the companionship of a bird seemed to calm the little hockey player. 

The Goose hopped up on the bench, as usual, fluffing out his feathers before settling down beside the frightened freshman. “Sorry that you’re seeing me like this. Just talked to Coach Hall today and, and he said it’s hard-- it’s hard to justify me being on the team. Financially. I just ran to check my account at the Student Center. To see if I still had the scholarship.” 

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve as he fished out the Tupperware of coconut cream pie. “Here, darlin’. Sorry I look a fright.” Eric sniffed once in his elbow, trying to regain his composure. “Coconut cream today.” While exhaling, Eric’s breath caught, embarrassingly enough.

He looked out to the waters of The Pond, sunset coming in about an hour. Even though he was still on Samwell’s campus, sitting out here in the quieter corner of the busy college, listening to the water lapping against the reeds and rocks, worn smooth from years of gentle waves rollicking against them. Bitterly, Eric wondered if he would be like that rock. Worn down, all his edges roughed away until he became just what Coach Hall wanted him to be. What Coach wanted him to be. 

A quieter honk, more like a chirp, caught Eric’s attention. “Darlin’, I’m okay.” He chuckled, though he wasn’t quite sure of it himself. “Really, I am.” He promised. “You have not eaten any of that coconut cream pie, what’s the matter darlin’? Do you not like--” 

Eric froze, his hands lifted into the air as he looked down. The Goose had just laid his head against his left side. The Goose’s neck craned up to it could rest its head against Eric’s rib cage. The Goose fluttered spread its wings and lay one of them out on Eric’s knee. 

This was a hug. 

This was an emotional support goose. 

That’s all there was to it. There was a panicked person out there who had lost their emotional support goose and Eric had just found him. That or The Goose was rabid. Probably. Or he was like Holster had said, he was a goose hand reared by people and abandoned at a university where he could be safe from hunting season with plenty of French fries to eat and people to squawk at. 

“Thank you, darlin’, for the hug.” Eric finally said when he remembered how to use his words. “I really appreciate that--” Interrupted yet again, Eric felt his phone buzz angrily in his pocket. The Goose seemed affronted by the vibrating in his pocket and moved away, finally digging in to the coconut cream pie. Still a little shaken, Eric answered his phone. “Hey, Holster you’ll never believe-- You’re talking way too fast… A USB, okay where’d you leave it? … The econ building computer lab, okay, I’m on my way. Yep, I’m right by there. No trouble at all.” 

Standing up, Eric left without a second glance back at the goose or his Tupperware that he had left behind. Little did he know that in only ten minutes time as the sun set and the moon’s light danced across The Pond that someone was thinking of that same embrace on that park bench. And how he wished he had arms instead of wings, a smile instead of a beak, and a voice with which to tell Eric: 

Chin up. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is ridiculous. Hope y'all are having a good time! Sorry again about formatting errors if there are any!   
> I'm also ItsyBitsyBitty on tumblr if you'd like to swing by!


	5. A Mysterious Stranger and Pie

As Eric railed into his teammate about leaving important USBs everywhere, his few steps he had taken in the direction of the Haus had him turning around to retrieve his Tupperware he’d left with The Goose. Samwell was relatively safe within the university grounds, near academic buildings and even parking garages. But the farther someone went out out the regularly patrolled campus, the more cautious they had to be. 

Cutting across the grass in the Lake Quad over to the bench, Eric stopped from a distance when he thought he could see someone sitting at the bench. Proceeding slowly, Eric’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw someone tall, with broad shoulders, looking out on The Pond, its waters shining in the moonlight. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you,” Eric began, walking up to the bench. Who he saw sitting there was certainly no goose. Oh hell no. This was a  _ man _ . 

Standing suddenly, the stranger turned to Eric with nothing but surprise in his body language and face. Which wasn’t a bad look for him, if there was such a thing. But the first thing that Eric thought when he saw him was how… sad he looked. Although his figure was objectively impressive with broad shoulders, a strong physique, and towering height, he looked sincere. Under the light of the distant street lamp, his eyes were big but hidden under heavy eyelids, his bottom lip worried between his teeth, with his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. And, Lord, was he tall. 

“Uh hey…” The stranger greeted, raising one hand up in greeting before putting it right back in his pocket. Was he embarrassed? Shy? Eric couldn’t get a read on him. 

“Hey,” Eric murmured, his voice somewhere far away. This was truly impolite, gawking at a perfect stranger, no matter how handsome he was. “Oh, sorry… I’m actually here for that Tupperware there.” He pointed down at the empty Tupperware, secretly pleased that The Goose had managed to enjoy it despite his not being there. Personally, he was still reeling from the affection that Canada goose had spared him. How odd it was. 

“Oh yeah, yeah… I wondered where...that came from.” The stranger said as he picked it up, holding it in his two hands as he looked down at Eric. What he said sounded more like a question, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he should have spoken. 

Eric held out his hands politely, “Well, it came from me. It’s silly. But I sometimes bring pie for The Goose, you know The Goose? Well, it happened on accident once but whenever I have a free ten minutes, I like to come here during the day and just gather some wool with a goose.” Eric was a notorious rambler when it came to guys out of his league, he had learned from attending school. “But it’s, you know, not weird.” 

The handsome stranger handed over the empty Tupperware container after carefully sealing the lid, trapping the leftover coconut cream pie inside. “No, no it’s not weird. Well, I mean, it’s unique. Not many people would give the time of day to a goose. Most would just run away and hope it doesn’t bite them.” 

His laugh light, Eric looked down at the container in his hands, secretly hoping their fingers could have touched when the man handed it to him, “Well, that’s what I did at first. He charged me ‘cause I had some pie out I was gonna eat. But, you know, I think we learned to get along. He’s nice company.” 

Watching Eric carefully, the stranger nodded, “Ha. Well, sometimes you just need some nice company every once in a while.” 

“Ain’t that the truth.” 

“Ha. Yeah.” 

The silence that fell over the pair of them didn’t seem uncomfortable but seemed like someone was holding their breath, waiting for it to be exhaled. “So… you’re?” 

“Eric,” the stranger breathed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. It was faint, just a slight upturn of his lips but Eric saw it nonetheless. “And you’ve got a hockey nickname?” 

For a moment, Eric was confused. He hadn’t said anything about hockey, or at least he didn’t think he did. Who really knew in all his rambling? “Oh, uh, Bitty. Last name’s Bittle and they tell me I’m pretty short.” 

The smile grew, “Oh no, absolutely not.”

“That’s what I keep telling them!” Eric chuckled, looking down at the ground. “Am I allowed to ask your name? When we see each other again?” He gave himself a mental pat on the back, his confidence showing. 

But a cloud passed over the young man’s face, the smile dropping until only the sad, sincere man remained. Even though they didn’t know one another well, Eric could see that his thoughts had gone elsewhere. “Ah, Jack.” 

“Jack.” Eric smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels as he clutched his Tupperware to his chest. “Happy to meet you. Well, I gotta get going. Friend needs me. Well, he doesn’t need  _ me _ . He needs what I have.” 

“Your pie?” Jack asked with a chuckle, leaning on the bench as Eric started to back away, taking small steps away from his usual place on the bench. The crickets, gentle waves, and whistling wind through The Pond’s reeds gave this meeting its own soundtrack, the sound sweet in Eric’s ears. 

“Ha ha, yes but not this time.” Eric smirked back. “But I’ll see you around, Jack.” 

Jack shifted his feet and nodded, looking at the ground as he reached up to tousle his long black hair. Eric wore his own hair a bit long, growing it out since the strict days of living in Madison, Georgia but Jack’s was around his ears, practically. “Yeah.” 

That rejection didn’t feel the best, especially since they had seemed to get along so well. “Uh, bye then.” Eric turned and walked away from the bench, that sadness from his talk with Coach Hall earlier in the day coming back. Just what he needed.

“Hey! Bitty!” A few steps echoed behind him in the soft grass of the Lake Quad, a hand resting on his shoulder, startling Eric out of his downward thought spiral. 

Eric felt his mouth drop open in surprise as he looked up at Jack, his big dark eyes gazing up into blue irises, captivating even under the LED of a nearby street lamp. Jack’s hand was warm and large, its weight reassuring against Eric’s shoulder. 

“I have classes only at night. So, if you don’t see me around, I’m probably in class, okay? It’s not-- I mean, ah. Shit.” Jack managed, looking down into Eric’s eyes. “I will see you around.” 

It sounded like a promise.

Eric hoped that it was a promise. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - hope y'all are enjoying it!


	6. A Promise and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this angsty? Might be angsty. Canonical angsty, references to Bitty being locked in the utility closet.   
> Also - updated late tonight, probably no chapter update tomorrow, hope everyone's been having a good time!

Nothing felt worse than sitting in gear and never getting a chance to hit the ice during a game. 

Eric sat in his stall, looking around and noticing the photos and other bits and bobs taped in other stalls. He wondered when if he would even get a chance to personalize his stall. Each stall also had a small blueberry mini pie that thankfully everyone had either eaten or were taking with them. But Eric couldn’t focus on what the coaches or anyone were saying, even though they were congratulating them all on a good game. 

It was only when Ransom and Holster approached him that Eric seemed to awake from his thoughts. “Alright, Bitty?” 

“Oh?” He looked up between the pair of them. “Of course, you two.” During his wool gathering, most of the players had left the locker room, while he sat there still in his under armour and pads. Looking a fool like that certainly didn’t help. “You two should get going, get on your way.” He prompted, shooing them off. 

The pair exchanged a look, “Alright. We’re heading back to the Haus, having a kegster later tonight.” Holster took a playful swipe at Eric’s shoulder, “We need you there, Bitty.” 

Eric nodded, starting to remove his padding. “Okay, you two, I’ll catch up. Just need some time with me, myself, and I, you know?”

Minutes later, Eric managed to be alone. Heading out into the corridor with his skating bag, Eric took practiced breaths, trying to let everything that happened roll off his back like a duck in water. 

Like a goose.

Despite the win, the seats in Faber were empty, only the auxiliary lights were on, leaving Eric with the beautiful, empty ice. 

Sitting back down in his seat on the bench where he had sat for hours, watching his friends and teammates make Samwell proud without him, Eric took a shaking breath. When this happened, when these dark thoughts took over his mind, there was one thing that helped even more than baking. 

It was getting back on the ice. 

His hockey skates packed away in his stall, Eric laced up in his figure skates, the light weight making Eric smile as he finally lifted his leg over the edge, skating out into the center of the ice. 

Wireless headphones in, Eric looked down at his skating playlist. He just needed one routine, just five minutes on the ice where he could leave behind this negative, part of himself, and focus not on the fear but himself.

_ Drunk in Love  _ would do the trick.

Eric had only ever listened to the song during warmups, but it brought him back, before Coach Hall with cautious eyes, before he had to worry about half the football team jumping him in the high school parking lot, and before that lonely night in the utility closet in December, locked away where no one could find him that set his life in sickening motion. 

It brought him back to the only one who really mattered: himself.

 

Eric didn’t know why his feet brought him back to the Lake Quad, the sound of music thumping in the distance. He knew that he should have made a beeline to the party to lock his door with himself inside it, but the crisp October night brought him back to where he last felt any semblance of peace before skating his heart out. 

The bench was empty. No therapeutic  goose to be found and no handsome student either. Which made sense considering it was nearly nine at night and there was no one in sight. But Eric took a seat anyway, setting down his duffel beside him as the chill of the bench made him shiver. Any more, being cold reminded him too much of that night, of darkness and claustrophobia. Eric also swore that night to never be separated from his phone again. He sighed and closed his eyes, music still thrumming in his ears, working to leave all that behind. 

“Hey. Hey, Bitty. Bitty?” A low voice stirred Eric from his reverie, suddenly sitting next to Jack who was busy rearranging some things in his book bag. “There you are, I didn’t expect to see you tonight. This is a nice surprise.” Looking up from where Jack was zipping up his bag, he frowned. Those eyes of his weren’t just beautiful but also incredibly perceptive. “Hey, what’s going on?” 

Eric sighed, not wanting to start a pity party when there was an actual party going on back at the homestead, “Just a lot of things.” 

“Don’t get too specific,” Jack tried to tease, his voice soothing and low. “I heard you guys had a game tonight and won. I would have went, but I had ‘World History Before 1865’.” 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t go, I didn’t even get on the ice.” 

“No?” There was no mistaking Jack’s surprise, which made Eric feel a little better and a little worse. 

“No.” 

“Oh.” 

 

Eric sighed again, though it seemed less resigned and more shaky, “I have a problem with checking.” Cocking his head, Jack opened his mouth but Eric beat him to it, “And I know what you’re gonna say, that I shouldn’t be hockey if I can’t handle it. That I should stick to something I’m good at. But out of state tuition is so high, Jack…” 

Although Eric had bumped into Jack a few times in the past week, in the Student Center, the library, even back at the bench, he was surprised that it was this practical stranger he was about to fall apart in front of, not his teammates. But Jack moved closer and rested his hand back on Eric’s shoulder, “I was gonna say I’d like to help you.” 

 

“What?” Eric asked, turning to look at him, a little thrilled to see this young man so close. 

Jack seemed to be choosing his words carefully, “I can see you have a lot of talent. I mean, in hockey it makes sense. You’re a little smaller than the other guys on the ice, but that means faster. If you wanted, I could help show you how to skate through it.” 

“They’ve tried that already, Jack. I nearly jumped out of my socks when Holster, one of my teammates, leaned past me to grab the milk.” Eric rubbed his temples. “They didn’t know if they should just hit and hit and hit and somehow knock me out of it but I just fall flat every time.”

Jack nodded, the cogs in his brain nearly audible, “Then we work together. Not repetition, but strategy, how to skate through a check, how to focus your attention on the puck and your stick and not your body, and maybe how to put some of your aggression out on the ice.” 

 

Eric raised an eyebrow, “And _you’re_ going to teach me?” This sounded almost too good to be true. Could it be that simple? The hand on his shoulder filled Eric with not only warmth but hope, sweet and exciting. 

Looking uncomfortable, Jack nodded, “Yep, that’ll be me. I…” He withdrew his hand from Eric’s shoulder, as if remembering it had left it there. He rubbed the back of his neck again, tousling his long black hair, tucking it behind his ears. “I have an agreement with someone at Faber. I can go skate at night sometimes, after games. Didn’t make it today because of lecture.” 

Eric tried not to think about how odd that sounded, about how there were too many holes in Jack's explanations. At this point, he'd take a miracle mystery man over the alternative: leaving Samwell University on a failed hockey scholarship. 

“What’s in it for you?” 

“Pie.” 

That did it. Eric giggled, his small laugh bouncing off the ripples in The Pond, and filling the intimate space between Jack and himself. 

Jack lit up, his smile big as he bit his bottom lip, a few small chuckles escaping him. “The company of Eric Bittle and an occasional slice of pie is more than worth it.” 

“So you like my company?” Eric asked, waiting with baited breath as he tucked his hair behind his ear. 

“I do. How about tomorrow night, say eight?” 

Eric groaned, “That’s so late.” 

“I’m much more of a night owl.” Jack chuckled, lost in his own small joke that Eric didn’t quite pick up on. 

“Fine, you fiend, eight tomorrow night. We can meet at the loading dock.” 

Even though Eric was sure they both had places to be, Eric reached out and helped Jack tuck one of his headphones in his ear, listening to music that only the pair of them shared in, both looking forward to tomorrow.

 


	7. Checking Practice and Pie

It was quiet at Faber, quieter than Eric had ever heard her before. There weren’t any student athletes or fans cheering, no rhythmic drum beat of hockey sticks to encourage their teammates on. Even in this silence, the space felt like it was full of life. Maybe quiet, maybe lying in wait now… but it was there. 

Jack wouldn’t betray who he knew to get into the rink, which would have set off a few alarm bells in Eric’s head if it wasn’t for how he knew every custodian they ran into by name, asking about how they were and their kids. Now it was just the pair of them and the ice. 

With just the rink lights on and the ice glowing from the moonlight spilling into Faber’s wide windows, Eric couldn’t take his eyes off Jack. It reminded him of how he felt when he was on the ice, but now he could see it. Coaxing a smile out of Jack usually required a bit of work, but it was well worth it. Now, he smiled freely as he leaned into his corners, turning in his laps around the rink.

How was a man that tall so fast on the ice? 

But Eric knew he was faster than him. 

 

“This is usually where you’ll find me if I’m not in class at night,” Jack confessed. “I love it.” He put his hands on his hips as he slowed to a stop in front of Eric in his pads, their checking practice finished. “Okay, Bitty. It’s just you and me now.” 

Lord. That accent Jack had seemed to thicken on the ice, like Eric’s did when he was home at a family reunion. 

“Good, so you won’t check me like they did?” 

Jack frowned, like he genuinely was sorry, his eyes hurt, “No, Bitty, sorry. I’m going to have to. But not over and over again, just to show you strategies to skate through. And not hard, and you can always tell me to stop. But, it’s going to take some time.” He came over and rested his hand on Eric’s shoulder, as he did so often, warming Eric from the inside out. 

Somehow, some way when Jack looked down at him like that… He felt like it would all be okay. 

He just had to remember: chin up. 

“We’ve got this.” Jack smirked. 

  
  


“You didn’t seriously think that I’d forget your payment, did you?” Eric winked as he handed over the pie box, covered in Sharpie dicks. Oh, the perks of living with hockey players. He watched as Jack skated up to the swinging door, noticing the unavoidable phalluses. 

“Why thank you.” Jack accepted the box. “Now, what’s in here?” 

“Maple cream.” 

Jack’s head jerked up, as if he couldn’t have heard the shorter man correctly. Instead, only a strained “Oh” came out. 

Immediately, Bitty backtracked, even going so far to hold out his hands to take it back. “Sorry, you probably get people giving you maple things all the time. I just thought Canada, real maple… sorry, it was inconsiderate. I mean, I could have just--”  

“I love it.” 

Eric blinked, looking up at him through his long lashes. “Oh, sorry. I babble.” 

“I love that, too.” 

_ Oh my Lord.  _

_ This boy.  _

“So tomorrow?” Jack asked, looking down at his watch and back up at Eric. He pushed his black hair up off of his forehead and for the first time, ever, Eric wished he could run his fingers through it. 

“Oh goodness yes.” 

 


	8. Flustered Feathers and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, canonical angst but there's so much more fluff. Thinking about doing a Jack POV sometime in the future - not sure yet.

“Hi there, darlin’.” Eric waved as he walked over, the sound of rain beating against the taut plastic of his umbrella soothing. 

 

A honk answered, a familiar shape appearing from the water, stepping out onto the green grass. The Canada goose shook his feathers out, droplets fanning out around him, not unlike a dog. He honked again and trotted forward, keeping his distance unlike the first day they met. 

 

“Lordy, it’s been a couple of days, huh?” Eric pulled his coat down over his rear and sat down on the wet bench. The goose, “darlin’”, kept his distance still. “Well get in here and up here, I’ve got a big enough umbrella.” 

Eric didn’t know when he had become a crazy goose guy, but it had happened. Maybe gradually, like a crazy cat lady or the “Feed the Birds” woman from Mary Poppins. 

 

Darlin’ hopped up on the bench and waddled over to sit next to Eric, surprising him when he didn’t leave the usual space between them, his feathers pressing against his thigh, still looking out to the water. 

Quiet for a few moments, Eric chuckled, lost in his thoughts that one of his good friends, while attending a university whose unofficial motto was “Drink deeply”, was a goose. 

 

Pulling out his usual Tupperware, which had quickly become  _ just _ his feathered friend’s, he pulled off the lid and smiled down at him, “I tried a kind of Boston cream...pie thing. Kinda. But I hope you like it. You probably fly over that way often enough to see if it’s a good recipe. Promise me feedback?” 

 

The Goose was too far gone in his enjoyment of the whipped filling to answer, though Eric knew he would have been polite enough to respond.  

This unlikely pair had been meeting like this for well for most of October, and Eric had to admit that it was very therapeutic. There wasn’t exactly anyone back at the Haus that Eric felt like he could just jabber to like this. Not even to Shitty and the boys. Although the university told graduating high school seniors they were very much LGBT-friendly, Eric’s memories of the football team in Madison made him cautious of the NCAA D-1 hockey team. What if they treated him differently? What if Ransom and Holster started bugging him about guys and ask him questions he wasn’t ready to answer? What if they asked him to leave the locker room? A few members of the defensive line had complained to Coach that they didn’t want a “nancy-boy” anywhere near the locker room and his father had agreed, asking Eric to not attend practice anymore. 

Eric had to grow a lot that day. But would he see days like that again? 

He just had to keep his chin up and take those baby steps. 

 

But Darlin’ was a goose. And sometimes Eric just had to let it out somehow, something he just had to say to someone. Even if they had webbed feet and couldn’t talk back. But at least here,  Eric felt like nothing was off the table during these little chats and pie. 

 

“...I’m working towards telling them, I swear. But I mean, they’re huge and I’ve been shoved in my fair share of lockers to err on the side of caution, Darlin’.” Eric took a breath before looking down at his friend. “So, I’ve met someone.” 

 

The Goose immediately looked back up at him, as though he could pick up on Eric’s meaning. “Don’t you look so surprised.” He chided. “I’ll have you know I’m a catch. But he’s a perfect gentleman for an underclassmen like me.” 

Stealing a glimpse down at his friend, he could see that the animal had not returned to eating but was looking up at him, patient. 

 

Eric took that as a way about talking about how he felt. He bit his lip, thinking. The rain hitting his umbrella nearly drowned out his words, quiet and sincere. 

“I don’t see him very often, but when I do it’s like, I don’t know, like I’m coming back home. With him I just feel so safe and we talk about just anything. He’s almost as good a listener as you. Maybe, maybe this is like my first big crush and I just need to learn to grow up and get those hearts out of my eyes.” 

 

It wouldn’t be the first time Eric’s heart had steered him wrong. It was almost like he was back, standing in the hallway leading into his freshman class dance, waiting for Aaron Macklin. They’d talked about musical theatre, something Eric knew very little about but humored his first crush, praised his part in the musical, and gabbed about  _ Wicked _ . Until he never returned from getting a drink, leaving Eric to visit the prop closet with Rapunzel  from their production of  _ Into the Woods _ . 

Long story short: never fall for a straight boy. And never assume anything.

 

“But I just have that feeling, you know? Like when he looks at me, he just knows.” Eric murmured. Darlin’ had shuffled over to lay his long neck against Eric’s side again, looking out onto the water with his human companion.  “That’s gotta count for something.I just gotta stop being such a ‘fraidy cat and just go do it. Just say: ‘Wanna go to Annie’s with me sometime? How about dinner?’ It might not be perfect, but he’s worth taking the shot, right?” Eric muttered. 

 

This didn’t seem to placate his friend, who leaned on him less, studying something on the water ahead of them in the rain, probably looking at something that Eric just couldn’t. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then. I think I’ve just got to get the courage. If this doesn’t work then we both should be mature enough to move on, right?” Eric stood, feeling stronger and more confident the more he babbled and talked out loud. “Right. Because he’s worth taking a chance, I’m due for a little happiness. And if it doesn’t work, then I get experience, I get back out there on the ice. I’m telling him today! Tonight!” 

 

Darlin’ had sense shuffled out of the umbrella, instead focusing on the muddy ground around the bench. “Thank you, Darlin’ for helping, I’m gonna go make you another pie, I promise!” 

Eric left determined while a very different someone left feeling like their chance had slipped through their feathers. 

 

* * *

 

Checking practice ended faster than Eric had thought it would. After Eric worked on checking Jack, and Jack worked with him skating through, they would sometimes work on shooting and passing the puck. Those were great nights where Faber reverberated with their laughter until one of the cleaning crew came to escort them out when the building officially closed.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

 

Jack helped him with checking and all, but he shied away from Eric or didn’t press him as much, opting for distance. His responses were barely five words long, his expression neutral. 

Eric felt a lot like a reporter talking to a professional hockey player. 

 

Eric stood against the boards, running a towel through his hair and face, breathing a little heavy after doing some post-checking laps. Jack hadn’t skated with him through that, a first. He looked a little out of it, perhaps a little impatient to leave. Who knew? They all had homework, that was for sure.

The workout hadn’t been the only reason that Eric’s heart was beating so fast, the question bubbling on his lips, ready to burst forth. 

 

“Hey, Jack?” 

“Hey, Eric.” 

Another thing, Jack was beginning to call him Bits or Bud. First names were kind of...formal after these past few weeks sharing the ice. 

Maybe tonight wasn’t a good night. Maybe Jack had something on his mind. 

But Eric had never had a good sense of judgement and plowed on. 

“Would you like to get dinner?” 

“No, Eric, I already ate.” 

“Not that kind of dinner. I meant, together. Like  _ dinner _ .” His voice was so quiet, but Eric knew that it carried over the chill of the ice. The silence was taut with--

 

Jack fell. 

Right on his sculpted ass. 

He had been turning on his skates to look at Eric, but somewhere he had gotten mixed up.  “Oh, honey I’ve never seen you fall on the ice before.” 

The older man looked just as gobsmacked as his protege. “It’s been a while, wait a minute, so you mean me? Like me, you want to go to Annie’s?” 

“Well, it doesn’t have to just be coffee, I said d--” 

“That’s right, you said dinner.” Jack pushed himself up, waving Eric off who skated over to help him up. Eric had been pleased talking to Jack from up on his skates, looking down at him from his bladed height, but now that Jack was back to his full height, not inches away from him… 

 

“Yes.” Jack smiled, “Not tonight, but yes. Yes, I’d like that.” 

Eric’s flushed face had nothing to do with the cold of the rink. “Good because, well because me, too. I wasn’t sure how you’d answer. You seem to have been having a bad night.” 

Jack was already shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I had been...dreading getting some news. Selfish of me, I didn’t mean to let that affect practice, or my time with you.” 

“Oh, is everything alright?”

Jack nodded before smiling, his own face flushed, surely with the cold. “Definitely more than alright, Bits." 

 


	9. Two Hands and Pie

Lit only by the twinkle lights strung around his bedroom, Eric listened to the rain pound against the window, midnight drawing near. He couldn't believe he had done it. He had a date.  _A date with Jack_ , no less. Even in the dark of midnight, Eric could see the beautiful blue of his eyes as if they were still just inches from him. Eric could have reached out and touched him. Well, he  _had_ , to tease and help Jack to the boards like he was an old man, trying to hold down his giggles.  _"Your rear and the ice good friends?" "I haven't fallen on the ice since I was a kid!"_ _"Oh,_ sure _, Jack..."_

Eric rolled over, wrapped up in the warmth of his bed. He had known Jack for about a month, since he had met him in the night. Even then, his eyes shone like corn flowers standing out in a field of corn. And Eric sure did feel like a corn husk in comparison. Only here, when Eric was sure he was alone, his teammates asleep, far from lecturing professors and cloying daydreams, he imagined that he could actually be with Jack, and not just in the biblical sense, either. 

What if the warmth that Eric felt around him wasn't the heavy quilt he had packed from Georgia but his arms in the darkness? What if he could feel Jack's weight settle against his back? Small kisses lazily peppered to the nape of his neck? Eric let his eyes close as he imagined this, a sucker for affection. This could perhaps be the first time that this didn't have to be his imagination. Like this didn't have to be a dream. Like what he wanted didn't have to be unreachable. Like he had a chance.

And Eric knew enough about chances to cherish them when they came along. 

If he wanted any chance of getting up for his 8AM, Eric knew he should start counting sheep...but all he could think about was the boy. 

* * *

"Looking chipper today, Bitty." Holster observed from over his copy of _The Economist_. He was usually the only one that was up when Eric started in on early morning breakfast or dashing to classes. The upperclassman could also work magic on that old coffee pot in the kitchen that Eric was almost positive was found in the dumpster behind Annie's, which Eric, against his better judgement was pouring into a ceramic to-go cup. 

"Chipper? Now why do you gotta go and say that? I'm just my usual, average self. Just Bitty." And already Eric knew he had given away too much. 

But Holster, bless him, wasn't always one to pry. Not this early in the morning and certainly not without Ransom. "Uh huh. I want rhubarb, by the way." 

"The vegetable, dear?" 

His blue eyes peering over the top of his paper, Holster raised an eyebrow. "When you come back here and stress bake. Rhubarb pie for my silence. You're clearly over the moon for someone. It's all over you." 

Eric put his hands on his hips, about to open his mouth and deny it when Holster interrupted, "Ransom has been looking for someone cute for you. I'd love to tell all about your date you have...tonight. Two pies. Rhubarb and pumpkin."

Damn the observant ass. 

"We will talk about this later, Mister." 

"And Bitty?" 

Eric turned around at the door, slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his raincoat and Kanken backpack. "Do you want muffins on top of that, you blackmailer?" But when he looked up, it wasn't a smarmy male gaze that met his own annoyed look but one of concern. 

"If you need anything, okay...we have your back. On and off the ice. I hope you know that. They do anything skeevy, you call us." Holster gathered  _The Economist_ and his black coffee and headed back upstairs, leaving Eric with that nugget of truth that nearly made Eric's bottom lip wobble.

Sure, the boys had said all of that before games, when they were in their gear or during practice. But here? Without the blades and pads and helmets? Shitty had told him that he would be there to support Eric if things ever got bad with his parents and the pressure that they put on him, but when it came to this? 

Eric was going to bake that boy three pies.

* * *

Okay. A date. He knew what to do on a date. It was just a date. You know, the things that were always in movies and books and songs and cartoons. Just a date. That's all a date was, anyway. A date in time with two people at the same place doing the same thing, being together, eating food--Lord, what was he going to eat?!

Eric felt like he was in a whirlwind as he scrolled through the menu online, trying to pick something good. He was only a little frazzled. The heavens were still opened outside, pouring down rain and the constant pounding on the roof of the Haus didn't calm his nerves. 

"Yo Bits, there's a lot of pies in the kitchen. You okay...?" Shitty leaned in his open door, blinking at what he saw. 

Four different outfit combinations were littered around Eric, shoes and even umbrella colors. Blinking, his mustache twitching, Shitty moved as though in slow motion, walking inside and closing Eric's door with a quiet click. "So...whatcha doin'?" 

Eric made a panicked noise not unlike a small furry animal about to get eaten on National Geographic. 

"Yeah, dates can be scary." Shitty agreed, guessing what he could about the collection of duds and a panicked Bitty. He lifted his hand to muss up his Itty Bitty's hair but restrained himself, feeling that his friend had probably spent quite a bit of time on it. "Let's do this step by step. First of all, above all, you're a motherfuckin' treasure, Eric. If your date makes you feel like you're anything less than that, drop that shit and we'll take care of ya. I'll try to help you but my first date with my girlfriend was in flip flops and cut off shorts. Oh and the vest I was wearing--!" 

* * *

It had nearly been overwhelming, to know that his teammates, his friends cared so much for him, would promise to be at his side and work with him even when things off the ice got a little rough. And on top of that there was a date with Jack. Lordy. 

_Bring the beat in_

Eric stood under the awning of the small hole-in-the-wall diner that they had decided on, his ears full of Beyonce. Originally, Eric had suggested something a bit farther from campus but Jack said he couldn't, offering a few restaurants. They were all close to the heart of the University, but thankfully weren't the ridiculously horrible collegiate bars. Who knew? Maybe Jack's job, or whatever he got up to during the day was nearby.

_I can see the stars all the way from here_

Speaking of the incredibly handsome man, Jack could spy the big lug across the street, looking both ways in the rain as he made his way over to Eric. Oh Lord. No way. 

Jack had always had a bit of stubble, some 5 o'clock shadow that made him look rugged, a real man's man. Eric's hand wanted to reach up and stroke, to feel the roughness under his palm. But now he was clean shaven, and  _his hair._

Cut short, Jack's long hair that had rested around his ears was gone. Instead, it was cut close to his head around his ear, the length moved to the front of his head, damp and a little deflated in the heavy rain. Eric was fairly certain his mouth was hanging open.

_I can feel the sun whenever you're near_

"Hey, Bud." Jack greeted, shaking a little bit like a dog to get rid of the extra water droplets. "Oh wow, you look great."

"Hi, Jack. I just look dry, unlike you." He chuckled, turning towards the restaurant. 

"Trust me, I  _do not_ mind a little bit of water." Jack smiled. 

"Oh, now you're a swimmer  _and_ a hockey player?" 

Jack took Eric's hand, looking down at him. "Something like that." 

_Every time you touch me I just melt away_

Jack's hand holding his, so large and calloused, warmed him from the tips of his ears to his toes, banishing any chill from the rain. Eric looked up at him, his tongue heavy in his mouth, trying to come up with something to say. 

"After you, Bits." Jack said. "Beauty before age." He held the door open with his other hand, still holding his hand tenderly.

When Eric finally thought he could function again, after looking back into those blue eyes of his, "It's actually age before beauty," he said as he walked over the threshold. Eric looked over his shoulder, "But get in here." 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lordy, I'm having too much fun.   
> Thank you thank you THANK YOU for the comments, y'all are so sweet and kind!


	10. Firsts and Pie

Were dates supposed to go this well? Especially first dates? 

The pair of them were tucked away in a little corner against the window and the wall, the sound of falling rain and softly playing acoustic music the perfect soundtrack to Eric's first date with Jack. The table was small, which didn't matter, because they spent most of the meal leaning forward, deep in conversation about anything and everything. While Eric was a notorious rambler when he was nervous, the small Southerner had never felt more at ease. 

While Eric did his fair share of talking about Georgia, his family, his major, and, of course, his hockey bros. Jack ate up every word, asking questions about the deep South, about the heat and the food. In exchange, Eric was treated to tales of the far north. Montreal, Quebec, even Nova Scotia. Eric hadn't even been out of the country before, so he was chock full of questions. Before long, Jack's fingers traced shapes and patterns into Eric's wrist as he described his childhood, the feeling of a cold wintry evening, his tongue stuck out to catch the first snowfall of the year.

"That sounds wonderful," Eric murmured. "I'm really looking forward to the snow up here. I'd always watch movies like  _White Christmas_ and get so jealous as a kid. We'd get just enough to coat the roads and cancel school, some times but I really wanted that 'winter wonderland' they always sing about." 

Jack smiled, though his eyes were sad, "I miss it. But snow here is pretty intense. Maybe this winter we can enjoy the winter together." 

"I'd like that." 

Jack's fingers made Eric nearly boneless, relaxing into his seat. "Can I tell you a secret?" 

"Go right on, sugar." 

A smile tugged at Jack's lips as he took in Eric from across the table, "This is my first date in a  _long_ time." 

Eric blushed, his eyes looking out the window in embarrassment, "It's my first date, well, ever." 

"Ever?" 

"Ever." 

"I find that hard to believe," Jack raised an eyebrow, "I mean, you're nice and sweet, even to those you barely know. You're funny and your pies, the maple, I mean, wow." 

Eric smirked, catching him in his fib, "Ah, but you've only ever had one pie from me." 

Jack's smile fell, surely as he realized his mistake, and cobbled together a scrambled answer, "You mention it and, well you know hockey players, and it has to be good but-- you know, Bitty, you need more protein." 

"You hockey bros and protein," Eric accused. "I can't tell you how long it took me to get my team to stop sucking on those protein shakes every minute of the day." Contemplative, Eric realized that he had been holding Jack's hand during the exchange. It had felt so natural, just holding his hand. As though he were a palm reader, Eric flipped Jack's hand over and began to trace words and shapes there, a mindless thing to do. "So why aren't you on the Samwell hockey team? I mean you're so good and--" 

"Bitty, no. I can't be. I mean, I've got myself to worry about,"  Jack frowned, "I don't have the time to invest in it. I literally don't. My schedule doesn't open up until suns-- around the evening. And I can't leave Samwell. Well, I mean, you know, I've got my major and my classes and I've invested a lot to get my Bachelor's." 

Eric blinked, this sudden onslaught of information seemed very important to Jack, almost painful. "Hey hey, you don't have to defend yourself to me, Jack. If you don't have the time, I ain't comin' after you with a pitchfork." His smile was small, though. "I just thought how fun it would be to play on the same line as you. The boys are noticing that I'm starting to get really good about being out there on the ice. Imagine what we could do if we were both out there." 

Jack took his fill of Bitty with his eyes, the dimmed lights in the restaurant creating a small little world of just the pair of them in the corner of the café. "Yeah, that would be amazing." He murmured.

They had had dessert, Eric had insisted on their pie, but critiqued it to no end, to Jack's delight. _"What does sifting flour even do?" "You poor child."  "You'll have to bake me another one." "Oh, honey, I planned on it."_ Their food eaten and forgotten about, the check sat at the edge of their table, precariously separating them for the night. Neither of them wanted to look at it or acknowledge its presence, as though it were an affront to their night. "So what _do_ you do during the day? You've told me about your classes at night." 

"I uh..." Jack blanched for a moment before standing abruptly. "I'm going to head to the bathroom." He announced. "Need anything? I mean...uh, at the-- I'll be right back. Just, you stay right there." 

"Okay?" Eric said, his voice a little high and wavering. He had seen this exact scenario played out in a hundred of different movies and shows. This was the part where he got stood up and left with the check. He had been just a little too nosey, and this was what he got in return. But Jack wouldn't do that to him, this was Jack. The same hockey player that he had been sharing heart eyes with for the past month. The same one that caught and held him when he slipped in a check, the same one who egged him on to hit him when it was Eric's turn to push Jack against the boards, leaning against him as he pulled off a skate... 

Oh hell no. Oh  _hell_ no. This was not going down.

 

Eric stood up and waved at the waitress that they weren't abandoning their check and followed Jack's path to the bathroom. Opening the door, Eric blinked at what he saw before immediately moving over to his side. Jack was leaning over the sink, his face wet as he splashed more water on it. "Jack, are you feeling okay?" He asked, his voice earnest. 

Jack looked up and turned to look down at Eric, looking immediately away. He didn't want the young man to see him. "Yeah, m'fine." 

"Uh, clearly not. Whoa, whoa--" Eric caught Jack's forearm and helped him lean against the long sink counter. "Breathe with me, Jack." He took the man's large hand and held it, pressing it against his own chest. "In," he exaggerated the deep breath, "out." He could hear Jack following his breathing. They continued with that, exaggerating his breath, Jack feeling Eric's heartbeat against his palm. 

Finally, Jack closed his eyes and shook his head, better. "Thanks." He frowned, "I wanted tonight to be perfect." 

"It was. It  _is_." Eric soothed, still holding Jack's hand, their fingers lacing naturally together. "A little anxiety doesn't erase the best date I've ever had." 

Jack smirked, despite himself, "It's also the only date you ever had. Also, the worst date you've ever had." 

"Not if I ask you out." 

Blinking, Jack looked down at him, "You'd want to go again?" 

"Do you feel what I feel?" 

Jack looked down at the shorter man, his small hand reaching up to touch his chest. Eric could feel the rush of Jack's heart beneath his finger tips. "Yes. God, yes, Eric." 

"Then hell yes we're having a second date, and a third, and if all goes well, a fourth." Eric took a step closer and smiled when he felt Jack's hand rest on his lower back. "And I know you don't want to talk about it, but... but I need to know. I know your life is your life and I have mine, but I want to know." 

Jack sighed, heavy and sad, "I don't want to lie to you." 

"Why would you need to lie to me?" Eric asked, looking up into Jack's blue eyes, heavy lidded and looking down at the ground. Reaching out, Eric's hand cradled Jack's jaw, freshly shaven, and looked into his eyes. "Are you married?" 

Jack looked a little startled, but shook his head in earnest, "No of course--" 

"Are you a murderer?" 

"No." 

"Serial rapist? Are you a sex offender?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"Could you star in  _Breaking Bad_?" 

Jack cracked a smile, "No. I don't do or sell or make drugs. I'm not Jesse Pinkman." 

"Are you on the run from something?" 

"No." 

"How did you vote in the last election?" 

"Canadian, remember? Also, I couldn't get to a poll back home. Eh." Jack teased. 

"Damn, thought I got you. How are you going to tip our waitress?" 

"Always twenty but she was really nice so twenty-five percent." 

Eric whistled, "Looks like I'm dealing with a good ol' human being." 

Jack nodded, "I'd like to think so. When I am one." 

Eric didn't quite know what that meant, but continued on with his biggest question yet, "I'm not just a notch in the bedpost, right?" 

"No." This was the most solemn response of all as Jack lifted his other hand and cupped Eric's cheek. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way." 

Eric shook his head, feeling the warm weight of Jack's hand against his face. "No, you didn't it's just. Well,  _look at you_. Sexy upper classman and the virgin freshman, never even been on a date before? I mean some of the hockey bros that I live with, I think they put _actual_ notches in their _actual_ bedposts. You and me just don't add up." 

"Then we go at your own pace, Bits." Jack encouraged, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Lead the way." 

From the tips of Eric's toes to the tips of his ears, he filled with delicious warmth. He closed his eyes and shivered. Those lips. He wanted more of them. Damn, he wanted more. It was his pace they were moving at, but Eric felt such a rush of affection and want that he wouldn't mind climbing up on that counter and--

"We should get back to the table so our waitress doesn't think we ran." Jack murmured, letting Eric go and stepping back. 

 

Now out of the bathroom, Eric still vibrated with manic energy. It wasn't just that Eric wanted to jump Jack's bones, but  _Lord_ , that little kiss on the forehead had been sweet but he wanted more of him. He needed more of him. Needed more of that over-six-foot tall hockey player. 

After paying the check, Jack looked out in the rain. "It's getting late, you probably need to head back to the Haus." 

"Where are you heading?" 

"Student Center to work out, get a shower after." Jack shrugged as they put on their coats, the rain not letting up in the dark of the evening. Street lamps cast the rain puddles in a hazy glow. Eric swore he could hear the thumping of a few of the trashy bars, not closing for several more hours. What Eric wouldn't give for several more hours with Jack. 

"Let me walk you at least to the end of the street. I've got my umbrella here we can share." Eric pushed it out when they were outside, the large umbrella keeping the pair of them dry as they walked. Slowly. 

Eric took a breath, "I want you to be comfortable, Jack. So if that means not telling me your full name or not telling me what you do, I understand. I want you to be comfortable enough with me to share how you feel, to tell me what you think." He looked up at the man who looked back down at him like...wow, a boy had never looked at him like that. "So, if not today, if not tomorrow, can you promise me a someday?" 

Jack stopped walking on the corner that would take them down two different streets, two different paths for the night. "I want to tell you, but I can't right now. And I don't want to lie to you. And Bitty, I'd give you every someday if you'd let me." Jack's blue eyes looked deep into Eric's, as if he was in awe of Eric rather than the other way around. 

 _This boy_. 

Dropping the umbrella, Eric went up on his tip-toes and wrapped his arms around Jack's neck, pressing their lips together. In some small corner of Eric's mind, he knew he was being rained on, getting soaked to the bone, but he couldn't care less when he felt Jack's strong arms lifting him and keeping him balanced. The kiss was searing, passionate, everything that Eric had seen and read about, but it felt so different when it was happening to him. It felt like a thousand fireworks going off in his chest, especially when he heard Jack sigh, "Eric." 

No one had ever called him 'Eric' like that. 

And now he knew he didn't want anyone else to. Not unless they were his Jack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, young love.   
> Thank y'all for being wonderful. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Let me know what you think <3


	11. Disney Princesses and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, don't feed wild geese nor pet them. Just don't do what Eric does in terms of the care and keeping of a wild fowl.   
> But hey, maybe strike up a conversation if you meet a kind one!

There were two kinds of Bitty baking explosions. The first were ones that were linked to sadness or nervousness and general no-good feelings. Nothing ever came up burnt, but the more complicated the bake, the worse Bitty was probably feeling. Especially if he wasn't eating any of them. 

The second happened the morning after the date. Eric felt like a goddamned Disney princess with a kitchen-full of helpful animal friends. Donuts, breads, pastries, and bakes of all kinds popped up everywhere. He was floating on air after last night's beautiful kiss in the rain with Jack. His dreams of being held, of being tenderly cared for were so close. He could picture Jack in his bed, smiling at him in the darkness, lit only by the starry fairy lights hanging around his bedroom. 

And that  _kiss_! Oh Lordy, Eric could barely contain himself - thus the baking explosion. 

Shitty looked up from his third maple custard donut. "So," his mouth smacked with the fullness of his bite, "got a thing for maple this week, Bitty?" 

Ransom was into it. Into. It. Currently, he was laying prone on the green couch of disgusting, moaning and complaining loudly and often about how his stomach hurt, his voice muffled by the grotesque cushions. What he couldn't eat, he begged Bitty to pack them up in containers and freeze them. Eric complied only after he sent him on his way with a few Tums. "Thank you, Bitty! I owe you, bro." Came a moan from the couch. 

"Maybe not a thing for maple, but a thing for Canada." Holster mused, his smile damn near devilish. "Or a  _Canadian_." Eric felt his feet suddenly hit the ground, his time floating on air without a care done. 

"Deets! Deets! Deets!" Shitty chanted, stuffing his face with maple bourbon monkey bread. 

Eric continued to work with his pie crust, meting out what the ingredients called for. It had been years, since he was a small child that he needed to use any kind of official measurements like cups or spoons when he made a pie. The Bittle eye was all he needed. He bit his lip, thinking about finally saying what he wanted to tell him. What would they think? These were his boys.

After two months, Ransom and Holster became as dear to Eric as Shitty was. There were so many times when the words "I'm gay" bubbled up on his tongue, threatening to spill over, like someone shook a Natty Light and finally let it loose. Which had totally happened to Eric at a kegster in this very kitchen, some drunk sorority girl "making it rain" over eager bros. Eric was sticky and unamused when he had to deep clean his kitchen. Which meant no after-kegster greasy, hangover-cure-all breakfast. Message received, the kitchen was off limits for all future parties. 

"Tell us about her, Bits." 

Taking a deep breath, Eric focused on his task at hand. "Yeah, well, he's the one who's been helping me with the checking practice." 

There was a pause, palpable enough that Eric could focus in on it and then it was gone as soon as it had arrived. 

"That maple-man needs a trophy from the hockey team. For the baking and for the checking practice. We need to give him the shovel talk, bring him over next time." Holster toasted Eric with his forkful of maple-sweetened carrot cake. 

Ransom lifted a thumbs up over the top of the couch, unable to muster more of an effort to congratulate him. "Aw. Yeah. Can...a dughhh…" He groaned, still full to the absolute brim with sweets. 

Shitty beamed, without pause, "So the date went well? C'mon man,  _deets_!" 

And just like that, Eric's worry about coming out to his best friends, his best bros, faded. He could feel his feet lift up once more, walking on air. "Really, y'all don't mind?" 

"The dreamier the better." Ransom encouraged, the sound small and pathetic. 

"Bet he's a muthfuckin' beaut.  _Deets, Bits._ " Shitty repeated. 

There were things from their date that was obviously just between the pair of them, like the anxiety attack and details about Jack's life that a private person like him Eric didn't think he would want shared, but everything else was open season. "Oh Lordy, let me tell you about  _that boy_." 

* * *

Eric walked out to the bench in the early afternoon. His feet were just taking him there naturally, now. It was a perfect place to unwind with good company. 

The good company being, of course, a goose. 

"Hey Darlin'!" Eric jogged out and beamed at the fluffy, feathery goose. "Have I got a lot to tell you!" 

The Canada goose absently picking at the grass near the bench didn't look up, focused on collecting crumbs or something that it spotted around the rusting metal of the park bench. Eric walked slower, "Hey, you okay there, Darlin'?" He approached slowly, looking down at the black and white goose. 

The goose reared its head up and flapped its wings, upset immediately at someone being too close to them. Eric yelped, jumping away from those wings. "Rude! I even brought you pie!" 

The goose looked up again and lifted his wings, the wings spread and as if simulating flight. His neck bent, his head low to the ground as he flapped his wings. This Canada goose did not have blue eyes. This strange goose honked aggressively and charged.  

At Bitty. 

With a cry, Eric turned the other direction, beginning to run until he heard the curious sound of more than one goose honking and the furious flapping of wings. Turning his head, Eric stopped when he saw the angry goose biting and flapping his wings at another goose. He was clearly losing as the new goose charged and chased the goose around the grass, flapping its wings and honking. At last, the mean goose flew away, scrawnier and not nearly as big as... "Darlin'!" 

Eric hurried forward and looked at the goose, falling to his knees before the goose. "Hey there, you okay, not hurt?" With a flutter of his tail feathers, Darlin' rushed forward to his friend. It wasn't a charge of anger, his head bobbed pleasantly and he waddled with determination, honking. "Thank you so much for doing that for me, Darlin'. I was scared stiff." 

The kind Canada goose walked right up to the freshman, immediately walking into his personal bubble, resting his long neck and head against Eric's chest. "Oh, you're all flustered, too, aren't you?" With a slightly shaking hand, Eric petted the goose's back, stroking down his back, his finger tips running along those beautiful soft feathers. The goose finally waddled back with a soft honk. He looked fine, looked healthy. 

He was a  _big_ goose. Compared to a regular Canada goose, Bitty had to admit that his feathered friend was pretty formidable. 

"He could have had some if he wanted," Bitty defended the angry goose that had since disappeared into the skies. 

An angry honk brought Eric's attention from the skies back to the ground. The goose was sat on the ground beside the bench with Bitty, staring straight up at him. "Oh, well, you don't share well, do you?" He reached his hand out for Darlin', half expecting to get his fingers nipped and nearly bitten off for his trouble. 

Instead, Darlin' moved his head into Eric's hand, rubbing his head against the human's palm. 

"I knew it wasn't you," Eric murmured fondly. "He didn't have blue eyes like you do." 

Together, Eric recounted the date, leaving out the anxiety (Eric would make sure that he was being loyal to Jack's secrets, even to a goose), and instead talking perhaps way too much about how Jack's lips had felt against his. 

Darlin' listened and leaned against Eric's side, eating the maple cream pie that Eric had so tenderly prepared, focused on every word. 

* * *

Eric was laser-focused. Sitting up in his bed, scrolling through Amazon, he scoured the website for Halloween costumes. 

Normally, he wouldn't mind too much. Throw something together and not worry too much about it, but this year he had skin in the game. 

Jack. 

Eric didn't put too much stock in the film  _Mean Girls_ , but he couldn't deny that the concept of Halloween was far more appealing when he realized he could bare a bit of skin to the Quebec-native. There had been a few times in the past week when Jack would murmur  _something_ in his ridiculous Quebecois dialect while they made out and Eric went weak in the knees. He wanted to get that same reaction, but this time with an outfit, with a single look. 

A bunny maybe? His finger hovered over the 'Add to Cart' button, but he hesitated as he took in the hoodie and ears combo. He'd sure look cute with that leotard, but it didn't quite resonate with him. There had to be something more...something to take this to the next level. 

Jack had been a gentleman, as he had promised. Eric had full control of how fast and how far they went but Jack always seemed to end it before the heat  _really_ got turned up. Maybe this would be all it would take to really convince Jack that he was ready for the next steps. It had been a few weeks since their date and he was ready to make some magic with this Canadian man. Well, maybe not  _that_ magic yet. 

The invitation to the Haus Halloween party went over better than Eric had thought. Jack accepted, and even promised that he would wear a costume. It made Eric jitter with excitement and anticipation. The boys were even eager to meet him, eager to see the guy that Eric couldn't stop gabbing about. They had opened the floodgates with their support, and Eric was happy to keep them abreast with all the, er, goings on between the pair of them. 

He needed something good. Something great. 

_"You really think they'll like me?" Jack asked as he kissed Eric's finger tips, the freshman in his lap on the hockey bench in Faber. It wasn't the chill of the ice that sent a shiver down Eric's spine but the sweet touches of the man's lips, those tender presses that made Eric's world shrink to just the pair of them._

_"Oh, honey, I know they will. I won't stop singing your praises." Eric chuckled._

_"Then I'll sound like a broken record. I won't be able to talk about anything else but you, Bits." Jack leaned forward and pressed his lips to the sweet patch of skin just under his ear. Eric sighed, the sound shaking and unsure._

_"Little ol' me?"_

_Jack nodded, leaning back to cup Eric's face, about to kiss him senseless yet again. "Bits, you make me feel like I can fly."_

Jolted out of his day dream, Eric opened a new tab to Jo-Ann Fabrics. 

He had it. 

Inspiration. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I'm going to lose some of you if Eric doesn't go with his bunny costume for Halloween, it's not canon but I thought it would be cute.   
> ****  
> I'm itsybitsybitty on tumblr if you want to follow my way!   
> Just to reiterate that this is a WIP and I try to update almost every day. Bookmark and get updated when I update!


	12. Halloween and Pie

Halloween.

It was a goddamn school night and the Haus was packed with what felt like all the sultry animal, movie character, celebrity, and adult joke costume the tri-state area could offer a wild bunch of Samwell students. This was what Bitty had believed college would be like every night - raging parties, promiscuous sex, and thumping music. It made sense, it was certainly more interesting to show on television than quiet afternoons of typing, protein bars, and frozen burritos.

The night felt electric, like this could actually be magical. 

Eric had spent most of the day hanging up streamers and decorations that were torn down from the archways almost immediately, making sugar cookies, pumpkin pies, and chocolate mini-pies, and chilling bottles of water for the DDs. But his mind kept straying to two things: his costume and Jack. 

How couldn't Eric think of Jack? His maybe-maybe not boyfriend with the cornflower blue eyes and the lips that made him go weak in the knees just  _thinking_ about him. 

And his costume. Oh Lordy, his costume. 

His mama probably wouldn't approve the skin he was showing, but it was worth it when it came to finally getting to see that other side of Jack. The one that Eric could tell bubbled up every time he crawled into his lap or broke his lips away to kiss his jaw and neck, but simmered down, giving Eric a chance to breathe. Eric knew he was a strong man who didn't need no one to sweep him off his feet and carry him away. 

But wow, his bedroom was only just a few steps up the stairs and soon he would have a whole Jack here.

A part of him worried for the hundredth time that day that he was going to get stood up. Jack had mentioned he wasn't good at parties, but Eric had reassured him that they wouldn't spend that much time in the thick of it. Eric loved to dance, don't misunderstand, and he'd love the chance to get to feel Jack's hands on his hips and just... Eric fanned himself as he stood in front of the mirror, trying not to let his mind wander too far in the gutter while the day was still young. 

Making sure Jack was comfortable was more important than Eric getting a few dances in. Jack still hadn't confirmed by the end of the morning, as he was always unavailable during the day to text or call. He had finally let spill he didn't know if he could "get that far". Which was a little confusing to say the least. Probably if he was dressing up he didn't want to go to his classes dressed up, or maybe he wasn't quite sure where the Haus was... Anyway, tonight Eric's focus was on Jack. 

With a confident stroke of his brush, he coated his eyelids in a dramatic white. 

He had this in the bag. 

 

He did not, repeat, did  _not_ have this in the bag. 

Eric looked at himself in the mirror, doing a final twirl as he looked it over. It was fairly simple in its construction, just some hot glue in a few places. He had helped volunteer at Sunday schools with more difficult and pain-staking crafts. But he wanted in his heart of hearts to look good, Jack's words still kicking around in his mind. Who just told a boy that he made him feel like he could fly? And the way Jack had said it, too, so confident and with a small smile before he was pulled into another beautiful kiss. 

He hoped he didn't look too trashy. The shorts were fine, but the shirtless idea? True, his body was subtly sculpted by hard days and nights of skating with the boys and Jack. He had abs. A modest four pack that couldn't be noticed head on but still made him feel good when he spied them from the sides. 

"Hey, Eric--whoa ho  _ho_!" Holster stopped, his mouth dropped open as he passed by his door on the way to the attic he shared with Ransom. It was adorable and Eric was sure it felt nice to have such a stable and caring support system so close by for Ransom and his coral-reef moments. "Goddamn, Bitty. You look great." Little votes of confidence popped up everywhere from his roommates as they all got ready, a pirate, a video game character, a Disney prince costume, adult joke costumes... Eric felt flattered by every single one.

Until it was time for the party to get started. Eric began the night playing a good host, making sure everyone had a drink and  _"Oh, did you see the sign? Yep, stay out of the kitchen. Uh-huh, honey, we're serious, bless your heart. Have a fun time, y'all_. _"_ Eric didn't prescribe to the idea of seducing others, except when he knew that Jack was ready to be unwrapped and enjoyed like Halloween candy, but there were people staring after him. Maybe they appreciated his DIY costuming skills or maybe, just maybe, Eric could soon join the hockey-butt club. 

Before long, the party was loud and the speakers were blaring some modern music downstairs. Eric had resolved to ask Jack to text him when he showed up. That way they wouldn't have to navigate through the crowd of costumes before they finally came across one another. Cradling his phone in his hands, Eric looked down when he felt the vibration of an incoming text. 

Jack was here. Jack was here in costume. He texted back with shaking fingers that he was upstairs and he would head down, trying to psych himself up. "You got this, Bittle. You got this. Playing on a NCAA D-1 hockey team doesn't bother you, this shouldn't either. Come on, game face." He tried to encourage, working on the speeches that the coaches gave them before games. Games they had been  _winning_. 

With a deep breath, Eric looked in his vanity mirror (great for vlogging quickly about his transition to college and toaster oven bakes for the struggling college kid) and saw that he was ready to go. His posters of the Queen B acknowledged him as he passed by, walking with a straight spine out of bedroom and down the hall to the stair case. 

Shitty and the bros had already found him, how could they  _not_? Even though he wore a pair of aviator sunglasses inside, his hair slicked back, and a pilot's coat on, Jack looked fucking good. It was ironic that they had both chosen costumes that were borne of flight. 

Holster and Ransom seemed obsessed with talking back and forth about something Jack had said, causing him to smile before turning his head toward the stairs, his jaw falling slightly open as he spotted Eric at the top of the stairs. 

He paired his white denim shorts with a pair of suspenders he had hot glued with feathers from Jo-Ann's, up to his elbows in white fish net gloves. He was shirtless, brushed with a bit of body glitter he hoped Jack wouldn't mind. His back was the most impressive, though. He constructed his own wings out of crafting feathers that were attached to his stocking glove's, making each arm look long and feathered from the back: beautiful snowy white wings. 

"Yo, Bits, you look like an angel," Ransom whistled above the noise, praising him. 

Eric stole a glance at Jack, casting his eyes down, hoping it wasn't too much. "He's not an angel." He looked back up to meet Jack's gaze, his aviator sun glasses dipping down so he could look into those blue eyes, taken out into their blue waves with the pull of the tide. 

"Then what am I?" 

"You're a swan." 


	13. Dancing and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all - I updated the rating for upcoming intimate moments!

Eric could only nod as he looked up to meet Jack's eyes, now hidden behind his dark aviators. "That's me, a swan. How'd ya guess?"

"I would think I know my waterfowl." Jack shrugged, still looking over Eric. It wasn't a leer or even an inappropriate, lusty gaze. It was awe, which took Eric very much by surprise. He had his great reaction from Jack, watching that strong jaw of his drop was worth all the work he had put into his costume, but this felt different than he had predicted.

He knew then that it wasn't just his body that Jack was appreciating, built after hard practices and a so-so diet plan (his bakes were just too good  _not_ to try!) but it was also him. Like this over-six-foot Adonis was surprised and flattered to have Bitty at his side for the remainder of the Halloween party. 

"Yeah, that and Bitty is no angel!" Holster crowed, holding aloft his red Solo cup. "Have you seen how many things he bakes for people - I've been trying on my diet for, Ransom, Ransom  _knows_ \- soooo long, right? Very very, very long... _OH! ohhh! Trouble trouble troububble..._ " He seemed to forget what he was talking about and walked off in the direction of the music where a Taylor Swift song was ending, belting out the lyrics, his voice low compared to others singing along. 

Eric turned to Jack, raising an eyebrow. They leaned against the wall just by the staircase, Eric wondering just when they'd have a moment to sneak away up the steps. "Any comment on that one?" 

Maybe it was the pilot's jacket, maybe it was the sunglasses that for some reason Jack chose to wear inside a hockey team house for a party at night, or maybe even the magic of Halloween, but Jack seemed especially flirtatious. "I have it on great authority you are no angel. You may be gorgeous like an angel, but those lips are sinful." 

There was a pause before Eric felt a giggle escape him at Jack's attempt at whatever that was. Jack joined in a moment later, "I'm sorry, that was bad. That was a bad line." He chuckled, Eric in love with the sound. His laugh was low, like it came from deep within his chest. It didn't sound fake, but it didn't sound ridiculous, either. "I heard you made mini pies, Bits. Let me in on that." He nudged the shorter man with his body as an ecstatic gentleman by the name of Shitty Knight leapt in and wrapped an arm around Eric's date.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, brah. You are a fucking beaut, man. Gorgeous, dude. Eric, you're one lucky dude." He turned to Jack and started in on introducing everyone with energetic points and perhaps too much profanity. Jack, bless him, didn't look too alarmed by this. Eric had already warned him that Shitty was a bit much but, before Eric had a chance to sneak all the way into the kitchen and nab some mini pies, Jack was already laughing at something that he said. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Knight, but I'm tryin' to enjoy Halloween with Maverick, here." Eric winked at his maybe-boyfriend and handed him a chocolate mini pie. As he saw Jack take a bite, distracted by his pie making skills, Eric turned to tell Shitty to scooch when he found Shitty pressing something into his hands. It was square and plastic, with something hard in the center in a ring... _Oh Lordy that's a condom_. 

Shitty rested a hand on Eric's shoulder, turning him to whisper in his ear in the din of the party. "Always with oral and anything else, dude. He seems like a cool guy but you never know with STIs, man. Need anything else, I have some lube packets in my dresser drawer." Shitty leaned back and looked down at him, "No worries, man, just go with the flow. But go with the flow with a head on your shoulders." 

"What'd you say?" Jack asked over the party noise, nearly shouting in competition with the bass of the music. He didn't look confrontational, he seemed like he really didn't know what they had been talking about. 

"Happy you came, bro. Well, hopefully that's not the only time you come tonight." 

"Shitty..." Eric said in warning, swatting him away. 

"Huh? What was that?" Jack asked again. 

Eric shouted out as Shitty disappeared into the crowds of people standing, beginning to dance, with drinks in their hands, "Wanna dance?" 

Wincing, Jack looked down at the ground, sipping his water bottle. "Nah, sorry. I mean, I don't dance in public." 

"What about upstairs?" 

Oh Lordy, he'd said it. 

 

True enough, even in his bedroom just up the stairs, they couldn't completely escape the music, the music thrumming and alive in the house, shaking the foundation and everything they owned. But at least they could talk here. Filled with jitters about absolutely  _everything_ , Eric wished that he'd had a chance to talk about this kind of thing with  _somebody_. The whole "leave room for Jesus" abstinence way wasn't going to work for Eric. Nor did the Shitty B. Knight way of experimentation and "going with the flow". What even was the flow? 

As Jack walked in behind Eric, his hand on his bare lower back, guiding him into his own bedroom, maybe the flow was going better than he'd thought. He'd given him some of his chocolate pie, so the seduction was well under way. The noises that boy made when he tried some of his pies... Tonight wasn't  _the_ night, but in a world full of dating and romantic firsts, Eric was excited to share more with Jack. 

He trusted him like no one else.

With the others, he trusted his brain to be picked, his baking to be enjoyed, and his friendship to be given without reservation - but with Jack? He trusted him with his heart. 

Seeing Jack linger in the threshold, Eric gestured for him to come inside. "This is my room. So, I uh, clearly like Beyoncé and, uh, twinkle lights." 

Jack rubbed the wood of the door, looking around. "It's nice, it looks like you'd really be comfortable here." Yet still he stood just outside his actual bedroom. 

"What are you thinking?" Eric asked, his voice quiet, as if afraid of the answer. Maybe they were moving too fast, maybe Jack wasn't interested in  _that_. Hell, they hadn't really had the talk about what they wanted from each other, from whatever relationship this was. Shitty would have been on his ass for sure about boundaries and clear and consistent communication.

"You're gonna laugh." 

"Try me." 

Jack shook his head, "No, you're gonna laugh at me. At my dancing." 

That might not make him laugh, but it certainly made Eric smile. "C'mon, you poor man. Let me show you..." He reached out his hand.

Jack didn't hesitate in taking it. 

Maybe not-so-subtly, the man also closed the door on his way in, his large hand curling around Eric's. Pulling Jack in, Eric smiled up at him, beginning to sway back and forth to the loud music. "Okay, your hands go here..." 

"Bitty, I've been to a school dance," Jack chided, although he placed his hands on the shorter man's hips regardless. 

Eric raised an eyebrow, "Probably not like this, darling." He turned around, facing away from Jack, pressing his back against his chest. Luckily the music was slow but the beat reverberated through the house, shooting up through their feet. It was like an automatic reaction when Eric heard good music, his hips beginning to move. "This okay?" 

He could hear him clear his throat before he finally murmured, "Uh, yeah, yeah. Want me to, uh, clip your wings?" Eric had forgotten all about his wings, chuckling as he shucked off his gloves, the wings going with them. He could feel Jack press closer to his back, his hands gently rubbing his hips with his thumbs. Oh that was nice. 

Eric smiled, feeling color rise to his cheeks. "Do you want to try dancing?" 

"How?" 

"Can you feel the music? Follow it..." Eric murmured, feeling Jack try to find the beat. He smiled, patient. "C'mon, you're a hockey player, you have to have better hips than that." The young man teased, pleased when he felt Jack hold him a little tighter, the pair of them grinding together. 

This felt perfect. Eric bit his lip, reaching up behind him to touch Jack's hair, his cheek. Oh wow, Jack was a fast learner. 

One of Jack's hands stayed on his hips, but Eric could feel the slide of a thumb pad against his spine, thudding against each knot in his spine. It was a delicious feeling, especially when he felt it ease off one of his suspender straps, a pair of lips pressing kisses to the back of his neck, nosing along his hair.  _Oh wow, Jack was a fast learner_. 

The huff of Jack's breath against his neck made the shorter man shiver as the beat picked up, his hips moving to compensate for the change in song. Eric could feel the man's power even as they pressed against each other, how strong he was. Normally, Eric would have been a little worried, a little panicked to feel so small when around someone who could definitely stuff him in a locker. But instead, Eric felt...protected.

As his other suspender strap fell, Jack's lips pressed into the curve of Eric's neck, feeling the rush of his heartbeat underneath his lips. With a little gasp, Eric shivered. His kisses were driving Eric mad.

Jack's voice was gruff, "Do you want to keep dancing on the, uh, you know, on the bed?" 

Eric turned and couldn't help a chuckle before he stood up on his tip toes, wrapping his arms around Jack's neck, kissing him deeply. 

"Let's dance." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all - I updated the rating for upcoming intimate moments! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you're interested! https://itsybitsybitty.tumblr.com/  
> Stay happy and healthy, dears! 
> 
> Also, sorry I left this on a bit of a cliffhanger, more fluffy updates to come!


	14. Together and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of oral sex and descriptive kissing

Eric's back hit the back of the bed, the large hockey player above him, shucking off his pilot's costume jacket to reveal a black shirt that pulled taut against his muscles across his chest. It was practically like there was no shirt there at all and revealed Jack's muscular arms that were hidden from autumn's chill. Jack was powerful, but when he reached out to Eric, he could only feel his calloused fingers cradling his face with nothing but tenderness. "You okay?" 

Blinking, looking up from his obvious staring at strong body, Eric nodded. "Yeah, I've just..." How could he say it? He wanted this, he wanted this so much, but he was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. "Never really  _danced_ before." 

Jack's expression shifted from concern to fondness, leaning down to kiss Eric's forehead. "We don't have to do this, I mean... Already this is one of my favorite Halloweens, since I'm spending it with you." His blue eyes met Eric's large brown ones, "We can just sit here--" 

Eric leaned up and kissed the upperclassman, "I want to, Jack. Maybe not, like,  _that_ yet... But you can still show a guy a good time, right?" He raised an eyebrow, giving a confident little shimmy of his shoulders. Lord, where was all of this flirtation coming from? It wasn't even like he had much to drink, if  _anything_ to drink. And certainly no tub juice. 

Kissing Jack was...an experience. Eric, true to his word about sharing a lot o his firsts with Jack, didn't know if this was what had happened when you kissed  _anyone_ or if this was something special. Oh how Eric wanted to believe it was the latter. The slide of their tongues together made his body turn to jelly and his breathing escape into hot huffs between them. The pair of them lying down on his bed, the thump of the music and the roar of the college crowd downstairs seemed forgotten as Bitty clung to Jack drowning in his deep kisses. His large hands reached down and cupped Eric's backside, pulling him closer. 

Jack stilled and pulled back, reaching into Eric's back shorts' pocket. For a moment, Eric couldn't understand the surprise through his lust-addled mind until his eyes focused on the condom that Jack held up. "That was for, uh..." He rushed to catch his breath, "You know. Just making sure."

"I'd like to suck you off." 

Eric blinked. Jack blinked, surprised at what he had said. "Uh..." 

"We don't have to, if you don't want, but,  _damn_ , Bits. I just want all of you." 

And how on Earth could Eric say no to that? 

* * *

Eric could feel the thrum of Jack's nervous heart against his ear, its beat erratic but slowing after their lovemaking. Well, maybe Eric had been quick to call it that. He could feel kisses being pressed to the top of his head, errant and unhurried. Certainly not like their kisses before. 

There was a small part of Eric's mind that was very aware that he was in bed with another man naked. His bed, no less. Jack had eventually lost his shirt and his pants, but had kept his tented boxer-briefs on. Eric had helped take care of him, he shivered thinking about when he could  _really_ help him with that. Jack wasn't really a comfortable pillow to rest his head on, his muscles were solid and hard, but his arms wrapped around him, one hand at his hip, the other rubbing his back as he lay across him... 

Eric could get used to this feeling. Of being wanted, of wanting someone else. 

"What are you thinking, Bits?" Jack murmured against his hair, "Euh, penny for your thoughts?" He tried the slang and it made Eric smile. A lot of what Jack did made him smile. 

He opted for the truth, "You're simultaneously the best and worst pillow ever. I stand by that." Eric spoke with authority, turning his head to look up into Jack's eyes. 

"Ouch. Let's try you, then." Jack moved before Eric knew what he was doing, rolling over on top of Eric. "Ah, that's nice." 

Smooshed under the heavy hockey player, Eric sighed. It was like a bull mastiff wanting to be a lap dog. "Get off." Eric's muffled voice rose up, his face pressed into Jack's shoulder. 

Chuckling, Jack acquiesced and lay his head on Eric's chest, one arm reaching out and embracing his side. Eric ran his fingers through Jack's hair and the taller man shivered. Although neither of them spoke, as Jack's eyes fell closed and he squeezed, they knew he didn't want to go. That he didn't want to leave. Jack's wandering kisses returned, pressing into his chest. "You are the best pillow I've had in years, Bits. Years." There was an honesty there that seemed raw, seemed  _too_ true that confused Eric. "I just want... I need you, Eric. In so many ways." 

"Well, you had me one way," Eric teased, trying to lighten the mood. Seriousness had seeped underneath his bedroom door and had settled on his sheets, soaked into Jack. "What other way can you want me, sugar?" 

Jack seemed to want to say something, his throat clearing, an odd humming starting. He sighed as though he were exhausted. "Right now I want whatever you can give me, Bits. I'll take it all." Although Eric could tell it wasn't even half of what he wanted to tell him, Eric accepted it and moved on. There were secrets that Jack had, things that weighed him down. He trusted Jack absolutely and he was entitled to a little privacy. 

"You can start by spending the night." Eric offered, carding his fingers through Jack's hair, soft to the touch and thick, his fingers disappearing into his silky tresses. 

For a minute Eric could hear, could feel him considering it. "I'm sorry, I can't, Eric," he murmured, "I don't want to miss the morning." 

"I've got an alarm on my phone--" 

Jack shook his head, "I don't want to risk it." He pressed his forehead to the center of Eric's chest and sighed, the sound tired. "I'm so sorry, Eric. I want to hold you, I want to... I just wish we..." The silence returned from Jack. 

 _Then why can't you have it?_ Eric wanted to ask, wanted to help lift the burden from Jack's shoulders. But he didn't dare speak out, didn't dare say anything that would upset him. It was obvious how sad Jack was now. Why hurt him more? "I understand, darlin'." 

Jack smirked, Eric could feel the upturn of his lips on his skin and smiled, too. Jack propped his chin on Eric's chest and looked up into his eyes, "I am your darlin', aren't I?" He chuckled. 

"Well, not my first darlin'. That's The Goose. Do you know him?" Eric smiled. "I bring The Goose, you know, the nice one by The Pond, pie every now and then. I'm working on bringing him a whipped peanut butter pie, but I don't know if peanuts are good for birds. I call him Darlin' and let me tell you what, it's just so calm, it almost feels like being in Georgia, being in a marsh. The sound of the water, the birds, the crickets, the company..." Eric covered his face, "I sound ridiculous. This sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud." 

Larger hands lifted his away, pressing kisses to the center of Eric's palms, "What? No it's not. You're just good at making friends. I'm sure that The Goose appreciates it, I'll bet he's happy to have someone to sit with who doesn't chase him or shoos him away. He needed a friend. You're very accepting, Bitty. You're kind in ways that I'd forgotten about. I used to think it was all flattery and dropping a few names to help people out. I'd forgotten about me in the process." 

Eric nodded, "That doesn't sound like the Jack I know, but I'm glad I know this one." 

* * *

Before too long, Jack slipped away back into the party, redressed in his pilot's uniform, the shades back on before he left the bedroom. Eric texted Shitty and told him he opted to stay in bed for the rest of the night. What he got were an explosion of eggplant, thumbs up, and heart emojis. 

Eric's own heart still beat on, echoing in his chest. At least he thought it was still there. Eric wasn't convinced that Jack hadn't taken it with him. 

If Jack, his Jack, had his heart... That was fine, right? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that there is a happy ending!
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr if you like: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/itsybitsybitty - I'm always happy to chat or send an encouraging word.   
> Hope everyone is doing well and midterms are going fine!   
> Stay healthy and happy, y'all!


	15. A Shot and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know when a fanfic author says, "Hey sorry, XYZ happened and it kept me from writing"? It. Is. True. Car troubles, health troubles, workin' nonstop - busy busy busy. But thankfully I'm back to the story. Thank you all for being so patient!   
> Follow me on tumblr: https://itsybitsybitty.tumblr.com/

Eric's skates cut through the ice, taking off at top speeds towards the puck, narrowly skating away from the D-man hot on his tail. Turning sharply against the glass, Eric shot it down the boards, getting the puck away before the 200 pound hockey player slammed into the back of him. Trying not to shake, Eric could feel the hockey player skate away, back on defense to another player, chasing after the puck. Eric was left behind to pick up the pieces after that hit.

_Get it together, Bittle. Chin up._

Steadying his breathing, Eric closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his breathing. He could do this. He would do this.

Eric turned and pushed off the boards, taking off back into play. Looking up, he saw Coach Hall stopping one of the boys from getting off the bench, his skate already draped across the divide. Their eyes connected, coach and player, and Eric nodded to his coach once before taking off, slicing through the ice back into the line of play. 

 _He could do this_. 

"There you go, Number #15!" Eric could pick that voice out of a crowd twice as big as what was gathered in Faber. Eric didn't want to risk looking up as he continued the play, focused on his task at hand, but Jack's words filled him with such happiness, he swore his speed doubled. 

Play was fierce during the game and for one of the first times since Eric had began checking practice with Jack, he was a part of it. As much as the opposite team pushed him, Eric could push back... even if it was just a little nudge during a face-off. You'd have thought that he had dropped gloves and threw a few punches by the way that his fan in the stands and Shitty had howled. 

Eric skated up into play, watching with wide eyes and a gasp on his lips as Shitty was slammed against the boards by a dark-haired Yale D-man. With a small tap, Shitty passed him the puck and Eric took off down the center, listening to the confusion around him until he heard a single yell, a yell so earnest and deep that it had to be Jack, "Bitty, shoot!" 

Eyes closed, face scrunched up in concentration, Eric reeled back with his stick and smacked forward. 

Eric had always seen in the movies where a shot like this was in slow-mo, the music stopped, a heartbeat echoed on the speakers. Everything moved so slow, everything was so quiet in the movies. 

They were wrong. 

Before Eric even realized what happened, he was surrounded by noise and rowdy hockey players. Sirens went off, drunken cheers rose in Faber, he was jostled this way and that, people hitting his helmet, shaking his shoulders. 

It wasn't until Shitty took him by the shoulders and steadied him that Eric had the chance to ask, "Did it go in?" 

The team laughed and wrapped their arms around him. No,  _his_ team... 

 

Dimly, Eric remembered that his mother had come up for the game. Just Mama. Coach couldn't get away.

Of course. Someone had to watch the bakery. Or, at least, that's what she texted him. She hadn't offered that much of an explanation but she didn't need to. 

Eric wasn't exactly...out to his parents. It wasn't just about being out in Georgia, it was about being out to the people who loved him, supposedly unconditionally. He knew Mama had her suspicions, but he didn't dare confirm them. What if this support he'd had all his life fell away? Would he even be able to stand up on his own after relying on his parents for so long? After they loved him for so long? It was a lot to process, and now wasn't exactly a good time.

Eric still hadn't showered up yet, though he had found the time to take a sink shower, washing up. He was in his black shorts and red and black tight Under Armor shirt from the game, wandering out of the locker room and down the hall. Everyone inside the locker room was still changing or eating his mini-pie goody bags for a post-game win. Blueberry tonight, after Yale's uniforms. Eric was on his way to see his mother, but what he saw as he turned the corner made him stop. 

"Jack..." 

Leaned up against the concrete wall of the rink halls, Jack stood in a long sleeve black shirt, his hands in his dark jeans' pockets. A Samwell baseball cap was pulled low against his face, hiding his features. But when he tipped up the brim, a smile spread across his usually stern features. "Bits..." 

Hurrying up, Eric hopped up into his arms, Jack lifting him a bit into the air. "You played so well. You were amazing. That check, you pushed right off of it, I was so proud." 

It warmed something deep within Eric that the thing Jack was so proud of wasn't his point on the board but how he had handled 200 pounds of suck. "Thanks, honey. I'm so happy you came." 

"I wouldn't miss a night game," Jack's voice rang with promise and it made Eric shiver. Looking down at his boyfriend's face, a large hand cradled his jaw as their lips touched.

In the very public underbelly of Faber. 

Eric leaned back, the kiss making a loud smacking noise. "Jack, Jack, not here." 

Hurt crept into Jack's eyes. "Oh." 

Eric quickly continued, "No hon, wait..." He murmured. "I want to, I really want to, but... But my mom is here and I'm not really out to the  _entire_ team and..." 

"You're not out yet?" Jack's head cocked to the side, surprised. "I'm sure it'll go okay. Eric, you're amazing. I know it, everyone knows it. Wait, your mom's here, could I meet her?" 

Patient, Eric shook his head. "Pump the breaks, sweetheart. It's not that simple, you know. Are  _you_ out?" 

That seemed like a complicated question, apparently. Jack took a deep breath, schooling his enthusiasm, "I'm sorry. It's just, I'd been hiding for so long that...that once things changed," he seemed surprised that he could say what was on his mind, "I realized that what I had been worrying about, coming out to my parents, to other people. It didn't matter that much anymore. Not in the grand scheme of things." 

Now that Eric was completely out of his embrace, Jack scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his head low. "And I'm proud of you. Not just, not just because of tonight but because, I'm proud that you're mine." 

Eric's heart melted as he surged forward and embraced Jack's side. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm proud, too. I just need some time. If you give me a--" 

Shaking his head, Jack took both of Eric's hands, "No, I don't want to pressure you to come out. It's your timeline, not mine. But I want you to know I'm here. I know I'm excited but, but I think that's just because you've made me so happy. Happier than I've been in a long time." 

Eric could feel the truth of Jack's words shake him down to his core. "Thank you, sweetheart, for being so patient." With each passing moment, Eric could feel himself fall more and more for this man. His Jack. 

"I'll be here, Bitty, you should go see your mom," Jack reassured, pressing one last kiss to his forehead. 

"Jack?" 

Stiffening, Jack turned around and looked at who had called his name. The voice was high and clear, surprised. Eric peeked around Jack to find a short woman with an even shorter dark haircut, her face ashen and surprised. It was clear the pair knew each other. Something, Eric was sure, he did not know yet about his Jack. 

"Hey Larissa..." 

 

 

 

 


	16. Larissa and Pie

So this was Larissa Duan, affectionately referred to as Lardo. Eric had heard Shitty wax poetic nearly nonstop after her semester in Kenya would be cut a bit short, and now Eric finally got to meet the young lady. "Oh my lands, you must be Larissa, I mean Lardo," Eric beamed and moved around Jack, their gaze still intense. "I've heard so many things. I'm Eric Bittle, freshman. When did you land?" She was the manager of the hockey team, the one who got their butts out of bed in the morning and put helmets on their heads. The general coordinator of madness that were NCAA hockey bros.

"What are you doing here, Jack? It's not Saturday," Lardo asked, her eyebrows raised and Eric's question ignored.

"Eric was playing. I wouldn't miss a night game," Jack answered, his voice cold. Larissa's gaze shifted over to the hockey player that was only slightly taller than herself. 

"So you're Bitty," Lardo managed a thin smile to Eric, turning to him. "It's nice to meet you. Can we talk for a minute?" Her calloused fingers gently touched his elbow, trying to guide him away from the conversation. 

"Oh, well," Eric looked between Larissa and Jack, caught in an uncomfortable middle. "I'm sure Jack can hear it, too. We're, um, you know... together." It felt good to say, thought Eric wished he had said it more confidently. Jack was proud of him, he wished he had enough power in his voice to say the same.

Lardo looked over to Jack and back down to Eric, surprise apparent on her face. "I see you're very close. How close are you, Jack?" 

"We are, Larissa," Jack murmured, his hand warm and anchoring on Eric's shoulder. Jack seemed nervous, a bit worried. Eric's jealous heart began to beat, looking between the pair of them. "We're getting there." 

Eric could feel himself getting smaller and smaller as their conversation continued, dancing around  _something_. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, the thrill of the goal fading away as he took in just how beautiful Larissa was. And how beautiful his Jack was. It was obvious what was going on. 

They had been together. 

Jack had told Eric he was bi and that didn't bother him. Not one little bit. But this felt...different, meeting one of his exes. From the calm manner in which Lardo seemed to steer the conversation, it didn't seem like they had been dating before she had gone to Kenya, but it had definitely happened. At least Jack hadn't been unfaithful. It explained why Jack had been so skittish around the hockey team. What if they knew that Jack and Lardo had been together? They didn't seem to know... 

Did Shitty know? Eric began to look over Lardo's shoulder, waiting for the lovesick, mustachioed bro to sweep in. Jack and Shitty had become quite close. This would break his heart. 

"So you're working on  _it._ " The word seemed to choke Larissa, making her cough once. "Are you trying to make him--" She could only get so far before she coughed anew, gulping down breath, bending over. 

"Oh honey," Eric reinserted himself in the conversation, patting her shoulder as her palms held her knees. "Honey, let me get you some tea. There's a hot water machine in the staff kitchen. You must be so exhausted from the flight..." 

Larissa turned and smiled, really smiled. He could tell it was genuine, but it didn't comfort him very much. 

Jack's trace of a smile, the slight upturn of his lips, was just like her own smile. 

"I can see why you like him, Jack. He's very kind. I would want to tell everyone he was my boyfriend," Lardo looked up at Jack, his eyes fixed on Eric. 

"You don't know the half of it. I do, I want to so bad, Larissa. But he doesn't--" Jack coughed now, trying to hide it against his knuckles, his lips pressed to the back of his hand. Eric looked between the two. 

Eric put his hands on his hips, impatient with the secrecy between the pair of them and the way it made him feel more unsteady and shaky by the moment. "Well, don't the pair of you start catching something. Both of you..." Eric didn't want to think about how the pair of them would have the same cough, it only made him feel smaller. "Both of you should be getting to the Haus. I can get the pair of you some soup. It's always so chilly back here." Eric felt cold, too. But it wasn't the cold ice rink that made him shiver. 

As Eric walked away from the pair of them and got changed in the locker room, Eric only felt more pathetic. Here he was, playing nurse maid to his boyfriend and his ex. Who both conveniently had the same cough. He was usually the most enthusiastic after a win, and now he had to go and change and see his mother. Who thought that he was still elated from getting his first goal. Now in the empty locker room, Eric was changed and slung his bag over his shoulder. 

He just had to say goodbye to Jack and Larissa and... Oh, they were gone. Knowing they weren't together made Eric relax a little. Lardo was no doubt with Shitty and the rest of the boys, celebrating her return to the United States. Jack was probably out being Jack, no explanations, just gone. 

It wasn't until he heard the creak of the equipment room door and Jack and Larissa stepped out did he realize just how in trouble his heart was. Oh no... No no no no no. Eric dipped around the corner in the trainer's room, hidden from view, his duffel pressed against his chest. 

"Thanks for the talk, Jack. I'm glad for you, I mean, you're close right. So close..." Lardo sounded so happy, her voice light. "I can tell you care about him." 

Jack's voice was tender, "I do. I really do. I'm going at his pace, though. I can wait, I want to do this right. I knew the c--" Jack suddenly broke off in an intense cough, even around the corner, Eric could feel it wracking his whole body. 

"Jack?! Someone's nearby... Jack-- Eric, is someone there?" Her question was answered as Eric zipped around the corner, going to Jack's side, rubbing his back. 

"Hey, Bitty..." Jack tried to smile, but his voice was ragged.

Eric pressed a hand against his forehead, "Oh, you poor thing. You're not very warm, head back to the Haus. Spend the night so I can look over you." Eric forgot about the kissing in the equipment room, the fact that they probably had kissed and swapped germs before Eric had met Larissa, and even how they looked at each other. He just wanted Jack to be okay. 

"Spend the night?" Lardo's voice piped up, an eyebrow raised. She and Jack shared a look. " _All_ night?" 

"Why did you have plans together?" Eric's voice cut in, surprising himself with how sharp it was. 

Jack's answer was genuine, "No, but Bits--" 

Eric lifted his hands away as he stepped away from the pair of them. "I see." Really, he saw too much. "I'm going to go see my mother. Don't wait up on me tonight, Jack. It was nice to meet you, Larissa." Their names were like swears coming out of his mouth, he spoke them so vehemently. Immediately, Eric was tired as he walked away with his duffel over his shoulder and walked out to find his mother. 

* * *

Eric felt a little guilty as he sat in a nice diner with his mother, Jack probably off hacking his lungs up somewhere. If he had any sense he would go to the Haus and reheat his soup and get some sleeping in. But now Eric needed someone who could distract him with silly family baking controversies. Aunt Judy always seemed to have a way with tampering with precious family tradition and recipes that simultaneously entertained and annoyed Mama Bittle to no end. 

"--I mean  _I'm_ the one with a bakery, for goodness sakes, I should know if something is sweet enough or not," his mother laughed over their finished dinners. "What about you, darling? How sweet is  _your_ life?" 

Eric blushed, "Now Mama, don't start that up again." 

"What's his name?"

"Mama!" 

"What? I'm a curious mother, I've got to know how my Dickie is doing. Tell me all about him," Suzanne Bittle got comfortable in her booth, listening intently. "Go on." 

Eric didn't know where to start and was a little worried he wouldn't know where to stop. "He's tall, so tall, Mama." The pair of them giggled for a second, his mother's hand in his across the table. The lights in the diner were dim, though Eric was sure his mother could see the hearts in his eyes. For a moment, as he described his Jack, the color of his hair, the way he carried himself, his smile, his laugh (although rare was a treat), and the way he held himself. Eric went off on what felt like a hundred tangents, about funny stories here and there, about a funny joke that made Jack snort milk up his nose, about the time Jack carried him clear across the Haus when he strained it at practice (he did _not_ tell his mother he had been carried to bed), about when they had laid on the roof and mapped out the constellations while eating cookies from the 24/7 cookie service on campus, about how Jack seemed perfect, but more importantly Jack was real. "I think I'm falling for him," Eric finally confessed at the end, thoughts of Larissa and Jack falling away, leaving him only with the truth. 

"I've got to meet him next time I'm up here," Mama Bittle tittered when Eric finally shared that Jack was sick. "I could hear someone cheering for you, Eric, calling your number." She sighed and sipped her coffee, "What did you say his name was again?" 

"I just told you, Jack," Eric smiled though he was a little confused. 

"No, honey, what's his last name?" 

Eric didn't know.

He didn't know his own boyfriend's last name. 

* * *

Eric was driven home by his mother in her rental car and she warned him that he looked a little pale. He was probably catching what Jack had. Eric agreed, hollowly. 

None of the hockey bros were home yet, all still out partying, celebrating their victory over Yale. At least Eric was thankful there hadn't been a kegster at the Haus when his mother pulled up. Or Shitty sitting on the porch with his hookah and a copy of  _The Economist_ and  _Walter and Hobbes_. 

Taking the steps upstairs, Eric didn't want to think about Jack, no doubt out with them. Maybe he had his arm around Larissa, the pair of them looking so happy together. So prefect together. Maybe he was ordering her a drink, maybe they whispered stale inside jokes to one another, trying to ignite what they had before she left. Maybe--

Walking into his room, Eric stopped. 

Lying in bed, almost asleep was a shirtless Jack Something with an empty bowl of soup on the bed stand. Their show, "Brooklyn Nine-Nine", continued on from Jack's phone. "Hey, I'm just re-watching old shows, I promise. I wouldn't start without you. How's your mom?" He asked, his accent thick when he was so close to sleep. 

Relieved, Eric kicked off his shoes and took off his clothes down to his boxers, not wanting to think. He slipped in to bed and let himself be held, let himself savor what they had together. Even if outside his bedroom door lay Larissa, lay what Jack did during the day, lay the secrets that Eric hadn't thought to ask about... Inside Jack's arms, though, inside his arms it was blessedly quiet. It was blessedly perfect. 

"Hey, Bits, hey what's wrong?" Jack asked when he no doubt felt the wet against his shoulder, a few tears slipping from Eric's eyes. Sniffing, Eric looked up, feeling Jack's large hand cradle his face. He was pulled in closer, tenderly. "When you're ready..." 

Eric didn't need very long, "What's your last name?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnn!   
> Don't forget, y'all that this does have a happy ending. It will be very fluffy, I promise you. Thanks y'all for reading, I almost have 1,000 hits (that's crazy!) Please feel free to comment, share, like, whatever you do, I'm thankful for you!   
> Follow me if you like: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/itsybitsybitty


	17. Zimermann and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy! Angst ahead, but never fear - all will end happily!   
> We're nearing the end here soon, hold on tight!   
> Shameless plug for a survey, have opinions about what I write next? Share them and I might take your advice about what to write, I'm not kidding when I say that this is about done. Thanks to those who have responded already. https://goo.gl/forms/jQcBV402AUBztyxi2

Eric looked down at the grainy photograph in his hand. The young boy with scabby knees, black hair around his ears, and a big smile could only be Jack. High up on his father's shoulders, his Canadiens jersey bunched up from how much Jack moved around. One hand reached down to his mother, who was turned to make sure he was stable, but threw a smile over her shoulder to the person with the camera. His father beamed, looking up to the boy teetering on his shoulders. 

Eric had never seen Jack look that happy before. But Jack always kept the photo with him. 

Together, they had fished out Jack's wallet: his I.D., his passport, and his credit card all lay on the bed spread before them. But Eric knew that this was meant the most. 

"Zimmermann. My last name is Zimmermann," Jack whispered. "These are my parents, Alicia and...and Bob. "Bad Bob" Zimmermann." His finger gently went over their faces, his voice heavy with an emotion that felt too old for someone so young. 

Turning to his boyfriend, Eric felt his eyes widen, "Honey--honey, they're looking for you." 

Jack lifted up his hand, resting it atop Eric's. Naturally, their fingers laced together and neither were afraid to hold tight. "They know I'm alive. They even know I'm here at Samwell. I've called them once or twice since..." He let his voice trail off. "I was ready to go to the NHL draft. Well, not exactly. I wasn't ready at all." Jack ran his hand through his hair, sighing. "The teams were all staring me down and my friends, my friends weren't exactly the best, even my parents..." 

He grew quiet, the pair of them sitting and looking down at his life. "Who else knew?" Eric asked, his voice small, feeling smaller.

"My parents, Johnson, Larissa, and Shitty. Probably some of the hockey guys, too. But Johnson and Shitty have been keeping them in line, I think. I don't have a real name listed with the university," Jack told the truth, turning to look at Eric, leaning into his taller boyfriend. "It's nice, no one having to worry who you are. I know Papa's famous and Maman, too, but... But for a while it was nice to just be Jack." 

Eric began to piece it together, "So that's why you always wore those sunglasses. At the rink, at the Halloween party." He teased, "I thought I was dating a bad boy." 

Jack chuckled, "Ha no, I am not a bad boy. I am not a bad boy, at all. You're more of the bad boy. Blackmailing hockey players to do their laundry with cookies and pie. That's low." Their chuckles subsided and Jack lifted Eric's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Everyone has been good about the privacy thing and, and if things weren't the way they were, I'd still like the privacy. Just for a while longer." 

"Thank you," Eric's voice was small in his bedroom, lit only by his Christmas lights. "Thank you for trusting me with this. I wish you would have told me sooner. I wish you would have told me when Shitty found out, or Johnson," Eric paused to add another name, "Or Lardo." 

Nodding, Jack smiled, "Yeah, Larissa's really been helping me. We met one night over near Faber, when I first got here, and she let me in to skate and..." He stopped himself, "It was so nice to talk to someone. Knowing that she would respect my privacy." 

Even though it hurt to hear, Eric was grateful in that moment, too. Knowing that Jack had someone to look after him before they met. Knowing that Larissa was there for him when he was probably battling a lot in his life. His heart beat earnestly in his chest, Eric knew without a doubt that he was falling for Jack. It only pained him that it wasn't as perfect as he had hoped it would be. 

Chin up. 

"I'm happy she was there for you. Will things go back to the way they were before?" Eric dared to ask. 

Jack reached up and cradled Eric's cheek, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "Before you? I can't imagine it. You've brought such light into my life, Eric. I don't even want to think about what came before." Their foreheads rested together and Eric put the photograph on the bed, careful to set it aside gently. He lifted his hand to press against Jack's chest, feeling his heart beating just under his finger tips. 

Eric's thought strayed all the way back to their first date, to when he asked Jack what he did during the day. It was still a question that went unanswered. Eric hadn't really considered its weight, how it still kept them apart, like it threatened to end something. Eric wished that he could go back to those silly little dates in the rain, holding each other's hands, tracing little patterns in his skin, murmuring these at their little candlelit table. 

The blankets on Eric's bed pooled around their waists, the two embracing on the chilly fall night. "Don't go tonight," Eric murmured. "Stay all night." 

"Okay, I can do--" 

"I want to see you when I wake up in the morning, too," Eric murmured. "Is that stupid, it's stupid..." 

Jack's face fell as he shook his head, "No, Bud, that's not... It's not stupid. I promise. I just, I have to be gone before morning." 

"To do what?" 

Jack couldn't say anything and Eric was reminded all too much of the small bathroom where he coached his breathing, where they giggled and nearly kissed. It all seemed so long ago. "I'm sorry, Jack. I need to know. So I can help." 

"You help already, Eric. You give me something to look forward to every night. I look forward to my cellphone instead of worrying about another call from my parents about how they're so worried, wanting to know when I'll come home." 

"Why can't you go home?" Eric asked, his voice raising. He leaned back now, getting up and standing as Jack sat there, unable to answer. "I mean, you have money, you have a passport, you can go home, you can see your family. Your dad wants to see you." He pointed out. 

Jack sighed, the sound tired, "Eric, you don't understand-" 

"No, I _do_ understand, actually. When I asked you on our first date if you were running from something you said 'no'. Was that a lie? Because it sure seems like it." Eric didn't know where this venom had come from. Everything had been simmering, his questions about Jack's life, the secrets that he kept with Lardo in the equipment room, the secret of his identity that others seemed to know on sight but he was hidden from... 

"And you said that you'd wait until I could tell you. I promised you 'someday', Eric," Jack's voice cut into his thoughts, returning his focus to the large not-hockey-player in his bed. How could someone with so much be so willing to run and hide, to keep his family waiting for a phone call, grasping at shadows? He had only recently come out to his mother and received her support... But his dad? Eric thought about the man whose shoulders Jack sat up on, 

Eric took a deep and centering breath, "You promised me every someday, actually. And I fell for that line. I don't understand the secrecy. I've been... I've been falling for you for so long, Jack. But these secrets! Disappearing into closets with Lardo, not telling me who you were--" 

Jack stood up out of bed, "Whoa whoa,  _Lardo_? Again with Lardo, what are you talking about Eric?" His eyes were large and worried, but there was an edge to his voice that mirrored Eric's. Eric knew he was escalating things, but after talking with his mother, his father not wanting to come up to see him... Though he loved his mother more than he could say, he was still worried that his mother had told his father, that it had somehow leaked into the bakery, leaving behind impressions of him that Coach preferred to remember. 

Blinking away angry tears, God he hated confrontation, Eric raised his finger and pointed at him. "I want the truth. I know you don't want to lie to me. But then tell the truth. You said you didn't want to tell me lies, and I thought it was mysterious and cute back then, but that was before I thought we could make it, Jack." He sagged, "I think we can make it, Jack." His voice broke and Jack moved forward, his arms outstretched. "No." 

Jack froze, his eyes blown wide. Eric couldn't believe that he had given his heart to this man and now he was watching it start to break. "Are you going to tell the truth?" 

After a moment of quiet, Eric knew the answer before he even opened his mouth, "I can't." 

Funny enough, Eric knew that that had to be the only truth that Jack would tell him. 

* * *

Eric looked out across the lake, weighed down by the past 24 hours. Just yesterday he was making dinner plans with his mother, getting ready to beat Yale, and had a boyfriend.

A lot could change in 24 hours. His mother was on a flight home and his boyfriend was out somewhere, doing who knew what. How could the truth be so hard to tell? 

He thought back about how Jack had been surprised when Eric had asked for a second, a third, and a fourth date. He had been his first date, ever. But he had also been his worst date by default. Now Eric could officially say that his relationship with Jack ZImmermann had been the best and also the worst of his life. What he wouldn't give to go back. Before Eric started to fall in love with Jack... 

Sighing, Eric stood up, Darlin' not showing up even though he brought his favorite, maple cream pie. A tentative honk stirred Eric out of his thoughts. His blue-eyed Darlin' stepped out of the reeds and sauntered up, not getting too close. "Hey, Darlin'. Oh, honey, I've missed you so much. It's getting cold soon. You're gonna have to go." He bit his lip and sat back down, setting out the maple cream pie. "Everyone's going, it feels like." 

His mother, Jack, even his father, Coach, had become distant. Before he had called his mother he had received pictures of good bakes or specially decorated cakes or pies. Now there was only radio silence. Jack had a father who had to be chomping at the bit to get his son back while he didn't know where he stood with his own father. 

Pie abandoned, Darlin' hopped up on the bench and settled into Eric's lap. "Oh you huge thing..." He laughed wetly. "You're wet, too, oh my Lord..." But the goose sat down in his lap, his long neck curled and resting against Eric's chest. "Well, not that you're so comfortable, I might as well tell you everything." 

Lifting a hand, he began to pet the goose's clean feathers. With a blubber, Eric felt himself fall apart, baring his soul to a goose. He told Darlin' everything, about Jack's secrecy, about Lardo's return, about their relationship that was kept hidden from him... Snow began to fall around them and Eric could only think of Jack, about his stories about playing in the snow as a child. 

Eric didn't want to think about the past, didn't want to think about Jack. 

He had to keep his chin up. 


	18. Polar Vortex and Pie

A polar vortex.

Eric wasn't quite sure what that was but it sounded bad. It had been the go-to topic of discussion as everyone shared pumpkin pie and his famous garlic mashed potatoes during Thanksgiving lunch. Most of the team had gone home early but Lardo, Shitty, Holster, and Ransom had all managed to stay at the Haus a few days before returning home. Lardo and Shitty would be with Eric for the entire break, thankfully. A big meal before Holster and Ransom's flights were just what they needed for a nap.

"It's gonna get cold as fuck, Bitty. Like really cold. North Pole cold," Shitty said, eating with his mouth open. Miraculously, none of the stuffing or similar side dishes had managed to get stuck in his mustache. His flow was pulled back into an elegant bun that screamed sophistication as he ate Thanksgiving in boxer shorts.

Passing the rolls and maple butter, Eric blinked, "Really? It can get that cold here? What is it like?" 

"The world shuts down," Holster answered with absolute certainty while his best friend practically inhaled the maple butter. Eric tried not to think too long on who he had originally planned some of his Thanksgiving menu around and had even tried to give  _him_ an invitation but... 

Jack didn't show up. 

Granted, it was during the day and Jack apparently couldn't "do" days, but it still stung. Lardo didn't look surprised.

A few weeks of space hadn't mended so much as one angry word he and Jack had exchanged. They were like a flame that burned too bright until they both got burned. In the days that had followed, Lardo had made herself more available, offering to study together, go out to coffee. She was a comfort, a reassurance that he told himself and others he didn't need, but secretly appreciated. His boys, now including Lardo, had helped him through thick and thin. 

"Shuts down? What does that even mean?" 

"Dangerous to go outside, cars don't start, school gets cancelled. Samwell hasn't closed in twenty years, we're past due for a day off," Ransom smirked nefariously. 

"Dude, we're literally on Thanksgiving break. This is a day off," Holster reminded. "Thank you again, Bitty, this is delicious." 

Eric wasn't paying attention, his mind somewhere else. Usually he'd blush or insist that everything wasn't much trouble, but Eric was struck with a terrifying thought. "So  _no one_ is allowed outside?" 

"It's Thanksgiving break, Bitty, come on. The worst of the cold front will hit tonight. Worst case scenario Shitty gives us that bottle of Wild Turkey he's been hiding, shares some Maui Wowie, and we play Nintendo all day - our flights cancelled," Holster smiled slowly, not unlike the Grinch. "We'll be fine since we're inside. No one should be outside except professionals." 

"Not even...geese?" 

Ransom's fork clattered to his plate as everyone paused; Shitty coughed as he took a drink wrong, Lardo's mouth opened in surprise as her spoon paused mid-air, and Holster, well, he was Holster. "So when you are referring to geese, I assume you mean...?" 

"Darlin'. Something's busted with his wing or something, he can't fly and there's no where warm enough on campus," Eric explained nervously, his voice rising in volume. He had just lost someone dear to him, he didn't know if he could make it through Darlin' not surviving in the winter.

"He does have feathers, Bitty and this is a frat house. We're not exactly Canada goose friendly," Ransom laughed nervously, unsure if this was a joke. But Eric's face was serious.

Eric nodded, determined, "He can stay in my room. I'll clean up after him, just don't feed him anything weird." 

Holster raised an eyebrow, "What? Like pie?" 

"Excuse you, remember who put this food on the table, mister," Eric looked across the table to the opposite end, "Shitty?" 

A moment of contemplation yielded only one response from him: "Goose, goose, goose...!" He chanted, pounding his hands on the table. "We all got history with that guy, let's bring him in from the cold. Just until the worst of it is over." 

"I'm sleeping at the airport," Ransom said, unsure. "I'm sure it's not sanitary." 

"You live in a frat house!" Lardo and Eric both reminded him in unison. "Hey Eric, I'll go with you." 

Blinking, Eric turned in his seat and regarded the young woman. The longer that Eric spoke to her, sat down with her as she talked about art, about Africa, the more Eric grew to enjoy her company. Gone were the jealous thoughts of a boyfriend and now something akin to a friendship began to grow tentatively between them. It didn't completely excuse her from her rendezvous with Jack in the equipment room or the knowing smiles or the illness they both came down with, but it was a start. A lot of things felt like a new start after he and Jack broke up. 

Sometimes Eric would wake to late calls at night from him only to lack the energy. He would call back and leave a voicemail the next morning during the day. Always missing each other. It felt too like their relationship. Something was always missing, the truth or trust... But Eric didn't once let himself believe that it wasn't good, that it didn't feel great to be wanted. 

To be loved.

In Eric's mind there hadn't been a question that Jack loved him. But that was before. Eric knew that he loved Jack, too. But he never had the chance to say it, never had the chance to really let Jack know how much he meant to him. 

"Eric? Hey, Eric, you there?" Lardo asked, her eyebrows lifted in concern. "Everything okay?" 

"Hmm? Oh yes, yes of course. We can go after lunch. I suppose it'll be hard to get him to the Haus," Eric worried as he picked up plates to go to the dishwasher. 

Lardo smirked, "Oh, I think we can convince him." 

Ransom sighed, "I can't believe you're going to bring a goose into this house. Don't tell my mom, she'll think I want to be a veterinarian." He rubbed his eyes and stood up, "I'm getting that bottle of Wild Turkey now, Shits." 

"Hey guys, hey guys, how about a bottle of  _Grey Goose_?" 

"Shitty!" 

"Whaaat?" 

* * *

 

Eric never felt more cold in his life. "What temperature is it?" He asked again, though he still didn't quite believe it. He was wrapped up from head to toe in at least two hats, a pair of Shitty's snow boots, four pairs of socks, and a giant scarf and coat. He felt like a crazy bird lady in the winter.

Oh god, he was a crazy bird lady. 

"It's negative two Fahrenheit, Bitty. Holster and Ransom's flight just cancelled for later tonight." Lardo was packed up tight, too, no doubt missing her study abroad home in the rich heat. What Eric wouldn't give for a bit of Georgia summer right then...just a taste. 

It was about four in the afternoon with plenty of daylight left to catch and guide a goose home. The snow was set to start rolling in in a few hours and the last thing Eric wanted to do was to leave Darlin' all alone and cold. He was the best listener Eric knew. His theory of him being an emotional support goose had to be true. When he felt sad, the goose waddled up and practically sat in his lap. When he needed some space, he was given some. But he had never been denied his company. Just that was enough for Eric. 

"He's usually over by the bench," Eric walked a little faster but hated how the wind whipped at his cheeks, how he was nearly crying from the cold. It was like a great weight pressing in on him, leaving him feel hollow and brittle. 

Sure enough, an enthusiastic honk echoed through the tundra of Samwell University and from the reeds of The Pond emerged the local legend, The Goose. Darlin' fluffed up his feathers, his head bent low against the wind. The honk subsided into a quieter one, more concerned as the wind threatened to blow him away. Eric fell to one knee, "Hey...hey there, you're coming with us, Darlin'. It's too cold for anyone out here." 

The goose's head lifted, now spotting Lardo and looking back to Eric. "This is my friend," Eric spoke like Darlin' understood, but it was obvious that he didn't. He just hoped that his soothing voice and calm manner was enough to soothe the animal. 

"You better do what he says. It's too cold for this, come on," Lardo began and then lurched forward when a strong gust of wind knocked Darlin' on his side. Eric's steady hands, with quick reflexes reached out and steadied the creature. It broke his heart to see how the goose shook, to see his wings curled in so taut and his eyes squinting against the harsh winds. This was bad and Eric knew just what he could do. 

The Georgian stood up and removed one of his coats, the fluffy down suddenly gone from his body. "Climb in this." Guiding Darlin' into the coat, Eric picked him up, huddled against his chest. "Let's go, Lardo." His teeth clicked with the cold, pulling the scarf tight around his mouth and neck. 

Maybe he was a little crazy, but he was sure that saving this goose, his friend, was worth it in the end.

* * *

As soon as Eric stepped through the door with Darlin' there was an immediate response of "YES" from Shitty and "Hell no" from Ransom as one descended and the other climbed the stairs. The Wild Turkey was a quarter empty. 

"Welcome, The Goose. We're happy to have you here. Eric, I've put some old bed sheets on the floor in your room for, er, convenience for your friend," Shitty's cheeks glowed with drink, "I even built him a nest. Supes comf." He continued on to Lardo, smiling with obvious pride.

Patting his cheek, Lardo smiled, though her little frame shivered with the cold. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. But Eric didn't pay attention, was too focused on his feathered friend to notice the growing intimacy of two of his friends.

"Let's get upstairs." Eric kicked off the huge boots and walked upstairs, Darlin' still in his arms. He had tried to goose-proof before he left, looking up baby-proofing articles as inspiration. The results were mixed. But Darlin' did have a little nest of old pillows and lost and found sweaters and PINK brand sweatpants and sweatshirts from overnight guests. Darlin' was amused once he was set down in the room, not exploring but turning and looking to Eric expectantly. His feathers ruffled, he seemed perky. 

"Don't you want to look around?" Eric gestured in front of the large goose with the ice blue eyes. "Go on..." 

But Darlin' didn't go on, instead settling in his little nest near the floor heater. Spreading out his wings and feathers, The Goose took in the water bowl and some cream pie beside it. "Maple cream," Eric confirmed.

After trekking around a frozen wasteland for a goose and preparing and eating a Thanksgiving lunch, Eric was exhausted. The turkey slowed him down to a crawl and he was ready to take a nap. Locking the door from the inside (he did  _not_ need a bunch of college bros messing with his goose guest, thank you), Eric shucked off the extra layers and crawled into bed. "Night, Darlin'." 

A honk answered him. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eric didn't let himself dream of Jack. Not anymore. 

Sometimes he had let himself close his eyes, imagining what it was like holding him, cuddling up to him when he wasn't there and fell asleep. Eric had a hard time with keeping things in the past where they belonged, but the memories of Jack's breath against his neck, his strong arms around him... Sometimes Jack would even murmur French in his ear until he fell asleep. What he said, Eric didn't know but it warmed him fast.  _"Bitty, Bitty, Bitty_ _..."_ The deep voice was cloying and gentle as he felt Jack's skin under his hand, the sweet sound of his laughter echoing in the corners of his mind. 

"Bitty? Bitty? Hey, Bud." The voice grew louder until Eric became sure it wasn't a dream. Opening his eyes, Eric gasped and flipped on the lamp beside his bed, positive he wasn't seeing his ex standing in his bedroom shirtless.

Yelping, Eric sat up straight in bed, pulling the sheets up around him though he was fully dressed. What he had feared had been confirmed. "Jack Zimmermann, what the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?" If Eric's voice had become a growl, pissed and wanting him out, gone. "When did you get in here?" 

"I've been here," Jack's voice was quiet, patient as he stood in the center of the room. His hands were lifted, not wanting to startle the freshman. He knelt to one knee beside the bed, not wanting to loom over Eric. 

"Bullshit, unless you hid in my closet," Eric accused. 

Jack's eyebrow raised, "Do you really think that  _I_ could fit in there?" 

Eric raised one right back, "Excuse you, that was rude. Just what-- Darlin'. Darlin'!" He called out, leaping from the bed, looking underneath it, in the closet, under the desk. Jack kept trying to call him back but just like his dreams, Eric knew it was too good to be true. 

Striding over to the 6'1" upperclassman, Eric shoved a finger in his chest, "First you break my heart, now you steal my goose, in Georgia that's more than enough for me to kick your ass, Mr. Zimmermann. You may have taught me how to check, but I'll teach you a thing or two about dropping gloves." His accent grew thick when he was incensed. 

Instead of inspiring fear, Eric withered when he saw Jack smile, really smile, enchanted by his words. "Oh, Eric. I missed you so much," he sighed. A moment or two passed, one in exaltation, the other in shock before the silence broke, "I can't tell you, I mean, I can't say it out loud." 

"Why? What have you got to hide-- Oh, wait, I forgot who I was talking to, excuse me." Eric was on a roll now. "Just where is my goose, mister? And why are you wearing PINK sweatpants?" 

Eric's eyes darted to the nest where, lo and behold, the neon pink, glittery sweatpants with PINK on the butt were gone from Darlin's nest. His eyes slowly trailing back over to his ex-boyfriend, Eric took in the low-slung pink pants that highlighted the V of Jack's pelvis. Oh. 

Oh no. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All is about to be revealed! I'm so excited to write the next chapter.   
> Thank y'all for sticking around and enjoying this wild ride that is Bitty of Goose Lake.  
> Please leave comments or kudos, they make me smile so much!


	19. A Curse and Pie

When he was young, Eric had had a wild imagination. Spinning around his family’s bakery with rolling pins and aprons, he had let himself believe he lived in a fairy tale; a kind baker waiting for his Prince Charming to come battle dragons or at least the school bullies for his love. He climbed to the tallest of trees to scan for towering castles on the horizon and spoke to cats and dogs like people on the off chance they might be a best friend in disguise. Hell, his first kiss, besides Jack, had technically been with a frog, just to “double check”.

So while a completely and utterly _ridiculous_ explanation as to Jack’s appearance and Darlin’s disappearance popped into his head, it didn’t surprise Eric but embarrassed him to no end.

The Eric of the past, waving cardboard swords and singing along to Disney songs, had believed in fate and destiny, not coincidence or reason like he liked to believe he did now. He had experienced heartbreak, lying, and more than his fair share of injustice within the world; a bit of magic was hard to find. And while Eric liked to believe he had found a bit of it in Jack, he hadn’t meant like _this._

“What did you just think?” Jack asked, his voice raised and excited. Lord, Jack should know what smiling like that did to poor people like him. “Just now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eric said evenly, trying to take a step back from Jack, losing his venom, “but I suggest you get to stepping. Shitty is here and so are Holster and Ransom, I would personally love to see you thrown on out on that huge ass of yours.”

“Please.”

Ah, shit. In bed, on dates, at the rink, there was no where that Eric was immune to Jack Zimmermann’s rare “please”. And Jack knew it. It was a dirty card, and he played it.

“I can’t say it, I can’t say anything about it. You have to say it,” Jack tried to plead, even clasping his hands in front of him.

Eric turned away from his ex and went to inspect the abandoned nest. Still warm. A large feather was stuck in the folds of a JUICY sweatshirt. Eric wanted to press it. “I think—I think that Shitty and Lardo are in on this. They have a master key to all the bedroom doors and took the goose but pushed you in here.”

“That’s not what you thought just now,” Jack tried again. “And they wouldn’t do that to us, to you. And that doesn’t explain why I’m dressed like this.” He gestured to himself and Eric couldn’t help but follow his hand, marveling at his abs, his chest that he had used as his pillow.

“You’re an odd duck, that’s why.”

“Close! So close, Eric!”

He didn’t seriously mean… Eric grew impatient and finally groaned, “You are not Darlin’ the goose, Jack.”

The ripped ex-hockey player cursed in Quebecois and tried again, “No no, don’t say it like that, say the opposite.”

“What?” Eric rubbed his temples, “Jack, I can’t do this. I really can’t, okay? I’m not…” He looked away from the boy he had given his heart to, knowing full well he had kept the truth from him more than he had shared it. “You want me to just stand here in my own bedroom and let you just make a fool out of me? Will it get you out of my bedroom and bring my goose back?”

Jack seemed caught with how to answer, torn between wanting to comfort him and holding himself back. “Say it.”

Eric leaned away and walked over to his bedroom door, unlocking it and holding it open. “You’re Darlin’ the goose, Jack. Now get the fuck out of my life.”

For a moment, Jack looked overjoyed and why, Eric couldn’t say, that is until a bright, beautiful light thrummed just beneath the man’s skin, his throat and his chest shining. When it faded, Jack clutched at his heart and his throat, coughing something horrible.

Eric closed the door.

“I’m The Goose, Eric. I’m The Goose and I’ve been cursed,” Jack croaked as his knees wobbled uncertainly beneath him.

Without thinking, Eric moved forward, supporting the taller man as he eased him to the bed, sitting him down. Eric's mind reeled, filling with those childhood hopes for a fairy tale, for his love and his happily ever after. But this couldn't be possible... Magic didn't exist, even if he was reluctant to admit that when he was in love with Jack, Eric could feel that magic between them. 

But not  _this_ kind of magic. Not the kind with feathers and cream pies next to the lake. 

He reached a hand out and pressed it to Jack's forehead, “Honey, you’re burning up…” Jack moved forward and embraced Eric, catching him off guard. He paused, frozen as he was held so earnestly by the man he had sworn off.

The familiar thrum of Jack’s strong heart against his, his breath tickling his neck as he clutched him, it was a wave of familiarity and sweet regret that rolled Eric under. He was falling in love again and all it took was a hug. Shit, he was weak.

Eric hugged back, feeling tears dot his eyes. A part of him still didn’t want to believe it, that this was some elaborate something or other, stage magic even. Jack didn’t seem like the kind of guy who needed close-up magic to get laid but…

“I want the truth, Jack. I want absolutely all of it. No more secrets, no deception,” he may or may not have blubbered like a baby, “I mean, a curse? You’re a goose sometimes, what kind of curse is that?” More surprised than ever, Eric began to laugh, beginning as a small shake and shudder of his shoulders that Jack immediately mistook for crying. And although he was, Eric couldn’t stop the laughter, chuckling.

Jack paused, taking in Eric's reaction with care. Finally, Jack dissolved into his own relieved laughter. Pressing their foreheads together, Jack cradled Eric’s face. 

“I fell in love with a goose-man. From Canada.”

Jack’s expression sobered, leaning back, but he didn’t look sad, he looked like he accepted what Eric murmured, “Past tense, huh?”

“Yeah, past-tense. You broke my heart. Why didn’t you tell me?” Eric shifted on the bed, embracing a pillow to alleviate his desire of getting lost in Jack again. It didn’t help much.

“It’s a part of the curse. Do you want me to start from the beginning? You deserve all of it, Eric. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth, either.”

Nodding, Eric got comfortable, drawing a quilt around him to replace the feeling of his strong arms around him. It still didn’t help much.


	20. A Fairy Tale and Pie

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far to the north there lived a king. The king was revered throughout the land, praised for his many battles and conquests, he was always victorious. He was heralded as the greatest to inherit the throne and it was on his throne he sat with a proud back and a big smile.

It was his father’s smile his son, the prince, loved the most. The king was devoted to his family, especially to his son, the one he and the people believed was heir to his throne. A challenge well met by the prince as he grew older but the treasures he looked upon in his father’s name tarnished his own relationship with his father, with his family and friends.

Fear gripped the prince as he looked on at his future kingdom in fear. What if the people, so loyal and adoring of his father, rejected him? What if the expectations they placed upon the back of the young prince were too heavy to bear and he toppled beneath its incredible weight?

Fear gave in to hard work. The toil the prince endured seemed twice the king’s and the acclaim at his age was easily thrice. Yet the prince still lived in fear of the people knowing, of discovering the young boy who shook and felt death at the hand of his own rabbiting and anxious heartbeat. Of all the conquests that the king, the prince had never heard of his father, the king, slaying such a beast within.

And so the prince used the only weapon he believed was at his disposal.

Pride.

The prince scoffed at beginners, at lesser nobles, he shunned those who were not worthy of joining him in his own conquests and adventures. The prince even turned on those closest to him, who had watched him grow and become a king that could rival his father. He appeared charismatic to those he wished to impress and sneered at things that were tender and friendly, for they appeared weak in his eyes, pushing such kindness away from him.

One of his dearest friends, a former lover, renounced his behavior and implored his old friend to mend his actions, to heal his heart warped by worry and self-doubt. This was not the young man he had grown to adore. The prince could only focus on his next conquest, and this was to be the largest of them all. Dispensing all advice and tactics he could, the eve of the grand adventure was to begin, the prince’s friend had run out of options. On this night, the prince would be declared a man and his esteem and talent was highly sought after by the people.

It was an auspicious day and the prince’s friend at last pleaded with him once more. Brothers in battle, lovers by night, they had turned heads with their talent and within the prince, the young man saw such light and hope for the kingdom.

The prince sneered and promised his once dearest friend that he would never compare to his own prowess, that his skills were clearly second and would remain so forever more. Their past would mean nothing, paling to his future. Their brief love would extinguish and the prince would never let his heart weaken again, forever banishing his kindness and love from the world. He would keep this part of him a secret, this love he felt for his friend and all others his gender, never sharing his love he would feel for anyone ever again.

This dealt such a blow to his friend that the young man resorted to what he had hoped he would never do – cast a curse on the prince so powerful that the only thing that would mend it, and mend the prince, was love.

This curse doomed the prince to be a beast by day, unable to speak to others and clearly looked down upon by others. Some feared him but most would ignore his existence. A fate that would remind him of his place in the world and his insignificance in others’ lives. By night he would change into his true form, but he could not move far from his lake, a home of contemplation and near a place of great learning to bring wisdom to him. The prince would not be able to speak of his plight, of his curse, yet there would be a solution.

If the prince could find love, genuine love, that could be reward enough for a prince so warped by his own insecurities. Yet however, to break the curse, the prince would need to announce his love and proclaim it to the world. His people would at last know what the prince had tried so hard to keep hidden, his soul laid bare for the people, regardless of their adoration or acceptance.

Some say the prince disappeared, buckling beneath the pressures some suspected were placed on him. Others believe he slipped into the murky world of vice and sin, never to resurface.

Not even the king and queen could account for their son, only knowing him to be alive, their blame resting upon their own shoulders. The prince’s friend was sent on the best of quests and was hailed as first, the best in the land. Meanwhile, the prince toiled with his own insecurities, yet studied and found passion that had long lay dormant. He wrote, he read, and he lived simply. It would seem the curse had worked, and yet the prince still had not found a love that could lift his curse and bring about an end to his suffering as a creature of magic.

Until of course, this little shit came along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't copy from the comic's fairy tale chapter (except for the last sentence, of course!) I took some liberties to Jack's character, sorry if that upsets anyone. I had to give Kent a reason to curse him that could yield a nice character arc for Jack.  
> Thank you so much for the comments, they brighten my day, I hope you're enjoying reading!


	21. The Truth and Pie

Once Jack finished spinning his tale of curses and magic, Eric was left in shock. They had drawn closer on the bed, their sides touching. He shivered and Jack reached around to draw one of Moomaw’s quilts closer around his shoulders. The Polar Vortex was officially upon them and the outside world seemed to swirl like an overturned snow globe.

Though Eric didn’t dare admit it now, he had to admit he had pictured what his first northern winter would be like with Jack, cuddled up like they were now, exchanging murmurs in the darkness, maybe a cup of cocoa at their side.

But this wasn’t at all how he had imagined it. And there was no cocoa.

 “A curse? Kent Parson of the Las Vegas Aces cursed you because…?”

“Like I said, just before The Draft, I was horrible. I didn’t talk to anyone, I said some horrible things and at the time I believed them. I needed to believe them. I couldn’t let my heart get hurt again like that,” Jack sighed. “So he sent me to Samwell, trapped by the lake.”

“Trapped how? You can leave it,” Eric reminded.

Jack’s smile was small, but there, pleased that Eric had been paying attention to something he had rehearsed a thousand times when he finally told Eric the truth. “I can, but not very far. Remember those restaurants you wanted to try for some of our dates? I said I couldn’t go…once I get too far from the lake, it starts to hurt. Really hurt,” Jack rubbed his chest, remembering a pain so indescribable, “I tried at first to get to a plane, take a cab, get back to The Draft, get back to my parents. I just fell over, my heart beating fast and feeling like I needed to vomit. My insides twisted like they were going to snap…” He shuddered.

Quick to distract him, Eric tried to piece everything together, “Then where do you live when you’re not with me? You told me you lived in a dorm… Do you live on the lake?”  

Jack winced, “I tried not to lie but none of them were to hurt you, I promise. I keep my clothes in a duffel bag in a little nest I have hidden away near the reeds and edge of the lake. Up until last semester I lived with Larissa, and then she left. I’ve been apartment-watching for her since.”

“Your ex.”

Jumping, surprised with Eric’s answer, Jack blinked, “My _what_?” Their blankets were disturbed falling from their shoulders in his surprise. Eric couldn’t imagine why his ex would have such a reaction, he tried to rephrase it again.

“Your ex-girlfriend. I see how it is between you, getting sick at the same time, all the slick looks…” Eric grumbled, not wanting to bring her up. Even though she had helped him through this breakup, she was not a topic of discussion he wanted to explore with his goose-ex-boyfriend.

Nodding slowly, Eric could see Jack trying to piece everything together. “Okay… So, one day I’m a goose at Faber and she was locking up after late practice. Everyone else had gone home but I missed the ice so much I just tried to charge in past her. It was sunset and at sunset, that’s when I change into me. Larissa saw me change into me, a person.” His eyes shone with memories. “I’m so grateful for her. She helped me become me again. She gave me a place to stay, she helped me get my head out of my ass…” He smiled fondly at something he could remember, and Eric longed secretly to be what Jack was smiling at.

“I never once came to love her the way Kent cast the curse. She’s like my sister. Anyway, she was the only one I could tell. I tried to tell everyone else but I couldn’t say the word curse, I couldn’t even tell people I was a goose. Nothing would come out. I know that’s a part of the curse, not being able to tell others who don’t suspect it or have seen it. You knew, Eric, even if it was just a passing thought, you knew. So I could tell you this.”

The older man’s shoulder brushed against his, thankfully Eric managed to grab a pair of sweatpants and a shirt large enough for Jack in a house full of hockey players but the heat between their bodies was palpable. Eric had once thought it was his natural attractiveness making him literally hot, but now he knew better. Magic thrummed under his skin, sailed along in his veins. The goose was a part of him, even if it was a curse.

Jack seemed like a rejuvenated man, he smiled as he locked eyes with Eric, knowing at once there was no secrets between them, or Eric hoped there weren’t. Lost in his gaze, Eric murmured, “You did have the same color eyes as Darlin’.” He blanched for a moment, turning a shade of pink before covering his face. “I told Darlin’ _so much_.”

“Yes, yes you did.” Shifting closer, Jack wrapped an arm around Eric’s shoulders. “And I loved every minute you came to visit me, every piece of pie, especially. You’d just uncrack a thing of pie and I’d just… you’re magnetic, Eric.”

Shaking his head at the praise, Eric looked down, “That’s just my cooking, not me.”

“And you’d talk to me. You’d talk to me like I was real. I mean, like I could understand.”

Eric paused in thought for only a moment before he buried his face in his hands. “Oh my _Lord_. I told you so many embarrassing things…”

Laughing nervously, Jack rubbed Eric’s back soothingly, drawing closer. “Eric, no, it’s okay. I didn’t go anywhere.” He rested his chin on top of Eric’s head, breathing him in. It was so obvious how much he missed this, missed him. “I don’t want to go anywhere, Eric. I know this is a lot. It’s so much.”

“It is.”

“I know,” Jack pressed his lips to Eric’s hair, rocking them slightly. Eric’s hands came up and felt the strong muscles in his back, where wings would sprout when the sun crossed the horizon. “I didn’t want to lie to you, I didn’t want to keep this from you…”

With a mirthless laugh, Eric had to agree, “It’s a lot to keep from someone. But it’s also a lot.” After he couldn’t stand the secrets any more, Eric had pulled his heart away from Jack’s grasp, taking it back for himself.

Now that Eric had been stained with heartbreak, he could barely imagine that happening again. He couldn’t imagine giving someone that kind of control over him again. “Jack…”

Half expecting the man to interrupt him, Eric felt his throat close when he didn’t, giving him a chance to speak. “You broke my heart. It sounds so cliché but that’s what you did, it broke into so many little pieces, they just weighed me down…”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Eric pulled back to look at his ex-boyfriend. The man he had believed was so mysterious and perfect had been just as broken as him. “I want to give you another chance, but I’m so scared. And I know you wouldn’t hurt me, I mean, you wouldn’t intentionally… But it’s so scary now.”

Eric thought of those who fell in love and out of it all the time, who threw themselves into the unknown. A small, stubborn part of him had thought they were kindred spirits. Now his suspicions about himself with love were confirmed, he was scared stiff.

Jack’s eyes seemed so deep, even if they did seem a little wet. “Remember when I said that you made me feel like I could fly?”

Of course he did, Eric had once based a whole Halloween costume on it. And so had Jack. They were just beside the uncertain, cold ice of Faber. A place they both loved so much, but nothing was guaranteed on the ice from the moment you stepped on it.

“It was true then and it’s true now. I want to fly with you again, Eric. But let’s start on the ground again, okay? We’ll learn to fly again together. Little by little,” Jack pressed their foreheads together, one of his hands against Eric’s heart, feeling its erratic beat. Eric covered his calloused hand with his own, holding it there.

“No more secrets. Just you and me. Everything on the table.”

“I promise, _mon cygne_. I love you, Eric.”

Eric knew it was only a matter of time before he could say it again and mean it with every part of his re-patched heart. He knew Jack could wait and would be there by his side for every moment of it.  


Although Jack had stayed the night plenty of times before and disappeared before the morning dawned mysteriously, Jack offered to leave for the night. He wanted to try again, slowly and unrushed. They had all the time in the world and all the memories to make.

Eric took one look outside the window and resolutely disagreed. It was freezing cold and snow was pouring from the heavens. So he hired Jack as a space heater and instead of sleeping on his nest of abandoned clothing, he was drawn into Eric’s embrace. Their fingers intertwined against the pillow as they slept face to face.

When Jack woke and felt the tug of the curse upon him, he let go of Eric’s fingers, stirring him awake. Wordlessly, as the sun broke over the horizon, they watched as a flash of golden light shone from Jack’s heart, temporarily blinding him.

A Canada goose with blue eyes was left in his wake. Eric may have cried again, Darlin’, no, Jack lifted his wing, stretching to touch Eric’s chest again. Distantly, Eric wondered if Jack could feel his heart against his wing, vibrating along the plume of his feathers.

He slept in the spot he left, the promise of tomorrow sweeter than any word Eric had heard before. Maybe even a little sweeter than being told by Jack Zimmermann that he was in love with you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic can go one of two ways. Either I can have a lot of fun writing some fluffy Zimbits while they get back together and then tie it in to the epilogue or just epilogue it up. I know some people can get impatient for fics to end.   
> Thoughts?


	22. Morning and Pie

Eric didn’t know quite how to feel in the morning when he woke, and Jack had remained a goose once the sun rose over the horizon. Light spilled through his white curtains, casting his bedroom in a gentle glow. It was still morning, but clouds swollen with snow kept emptying over the Haus and Samwell, effectively trapping the residents inside, to their glee. But Eric woke without a smile on his face.  

Part of him had believed that now that Jack had confessed his love for him that the spell would break. The freshman would wake in his arms and they could return to how things were. But in the grey morning light, they were still trapped in a curse that had been cast years ago.

Wiping his eyes, the early morning and his spent emotions wore him out, Eric realized he was talking nonsense. There was no “we” or “they” anymore. Not since the pair of them had gone their separate ways. Darlin’, no _Jack_ , had fluffed up in his sleep, curving his long neck to rest in his feathers, the down no doubt a wonderful pillow. Jack rested on the bed beside Eric with deep, even breaths, sleeping on, oblivious of Eric waking.

Eric’s hand itched to reach out, to run his fingers along his feathers, to feel his heartbeat, rushed and small for someone his size. Yet seemed large enough to still care for him. Moving slowly, Eric rolled closer to the waterfowl when a loud crinkle of paper in his bed made him jump out of his skin.

Jack snapped awake, his head looking around wildly, a small honk coming from him. Eric didn’t want to think about what made him sleep so lightly, what he had to be on the lookout for while he was a goose.

As Jack calmed, he turned to Eric, his blue eyes soft. His gaze was nothing like the terrifying geese that had charged and hissed hellfire at him. He looked kind and sincere, like a patient petting zoo attraction, accustomed to overeager children and new people. It was partly that gaze that had made Eric open up to him, made him divulge about his day.  

“What’s this?” Eric reached in the blankets and unearthed an unopened Pop Tart that he had no recollection of putting in his bed. Jack, usually an expressionless man, was quite a lively goose. He fluffed up, his feathers puffing with pride.

Raising an eyebrow, Eric tried to school his expression, “Did you have something to do with this?”

Jack the goose nodded, dipping his bill downward.

Eric looked up and saw his door had unlocked, likely from the outside by Lardo. His heart jumped a bit, “Is…is this breakfast in bed?”

Jack fluffed once more, carrying himself a little taller. He had mentioned once or twice that he had always wanted to make Eric breakfast in bed. Little had he known it wasn’t just a “someday” or an empty promise, but a genuine wish that he was now living out.

The human was willing to bet that this wasn’t exactly what Jack had envisioned.

Waiting patiently for a response from Eric, tail twitching, the human smiled, “It’s lovely, Jack. You always said that you wanted to make me breakfast in bed.”

The goose inched closer and settled down into the soft sheets where he had slept as a man not hours ago. “Do you want the crusts?”

Opening his mouth, Eric expected a surprised but sad honk from the goose but leapt from his bed when he heard him respond with a lilting Quebecois accent, “No, thank you. I made that especially for you.” He flapped his wings, stretching until he looked up to the surprised freshman standing beside the bed, uneasy on his feet, a hand on his heart.

“You… _Jack you’re talking_. Oh my lands, I’m talking to a goose. A goose is talkin’ back,” Eric paced back and forth. As a child, his lap full of storybooks and his mind filled with the sweet verses of fairy tales, he swore he had envisioned this precise moment a million times. Discovering a talking animal who would be a marvelous companion, someone who could show him worlds he had only imagined, who would be his friend and laugh at his jokes. And sit with him in the cafeteria and not talk about fashion advice or anything that they thought people “like him” knew anything about.

“I really am a fucking Disney princess. A goose is talking to me. A magic goose man is talking to me. Oh my lands.” Eric sat down at the bed, teetering on the edge, one hand at his forehead.

Taking this into consideration, Jack tilted his head, his voice low and too strong to belong to any waterfowl, “Once you broke a part of the curse, you can hear me. _Really_ hear me.” His beak opened and closed, clearly cackling and honking without his true voice. Turning to face Jack, Eric blinked, still surprised.

Jack smiled, he could even tell when he _smiled_ , “You look beautiful in the morning, Eric. I’ve never seen you like this.” Dipping his head down, goose-Jack shook it back and forth and sighed, “I’m so sorry, Eric. We’ve wasted so much time, but my fear got in the way. If only I had told you sooner.”

Reaching out, Eric let his hand rest on Jack’s back, “Hey, we can spend forever on ‘if only’s, then we couldn’t look forward to the future, right?” Though his heart had been broken by Jack Zimmermann, there was a part of him, small and fragile, that could see the pair of them together.

“Thank you.”

Unwrapping the cinnamon sugar Pop Tart, Eric raised an eyebrow, “Now, I always made you cream or whipped pies because I didn’t know if you could really eat anything, would you even be able to eat a Pop Tart?” He moved right along with the conversation, not wanting to dwell too long on his failed relationship with the first man he ever fell in love with.

“I can. During the day, I don’t get a lot to eat so I over-eat at night to compensate. I used to be much heavier, built more like a hockey player,” Jack lifted his wings and looked down at them, shaking his head. “But things change.”

“Someday you can change them back,” Eric encouraged. There were still questions he had that weighed heavily on him. Had he been targeted and chosen to break the curse? If so, how much of what Jack said was real? It all had seemed to perfect and genuine, but he was sure to guard his heart a little better next time.

Eric didn’t even want to think of a next time. Now while he still was here with Jack, their vow to try again echoing in his mind. He broke half of a Pop Tart and laid it on his bed. To his amusement, Jack sniffed it and resigned himself to eating it, clearly not enamored by something being given to him that wasn’t a delicious pie. “Tell me more about your family bakery.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do.”

Chuckling awkwardly, Eric lounged on the bed, turning to look at the goose beside him, munching on his own breakfast in bed, “I suppose I did tell you that. I never stop gabbing about anything.”

“I love it, it made me feel less alone.”

It never failed to surprise Eric just how casually Jack could say something like that, something that made his heart race and his cheeks burn with a blush. Opting for a smidgen of bravery, Eric replied, “I know the feeling. When I’m with you, well, when I was with you, I mean… I felt less alone.” He felt his shoulders grow tense, balled up.

“Eric?” He could feel the slight touch of feathers against his arm, reaching out to see if he was alright.

 “I’ve never told you this, Jack, but… But I used to hate it when you spent the night.”

Jack listened, frozen, his icy eyes wide but patient.

 “I mean, it was wonderful, it was always wonderful. But,” Eric bit his lip, staring into the white ceiling, imagining how he had laid there for weeks before, on mornings like this one, but the bed would be cold, “I’d always miss you in the mornings. You’d be gone and I know you’d leave a note or two but it wasn’t the same. I wanted to wake up with the one I loved, feel his arms around me and know that I hadn’t gone through the night alone. And no matter how many times I told myself it was okay or that I didn’t want to get in the way of your own life, you were becoming such a big part of mine that I felt like you didn’t do the same.”

Jack was quiet, processing, his head down as he took in what Eric said. Eric wanted to believe so much that they weren’t broken, that this could easily be solved, he wondered if Jack thought that, too. Maybe a little cheesy breakfast in bed and they’d be back to how they were.

“And I know,” Jack lifted his head as Eric continued, “I know now that it was the curse. I mean, you had no choice. Or I’d wake up cuddling with a goose… But when I didn’t know, I feel like you forgot that.”

Eric wiped stubbornly at his eyes, was he crying? Shit… “Sorry.” He leaned over to his bedside table and plucked a few Kleenex from its box.

“No.”

He turned back and looked over at Jack, the goose standing tall, “I’m the one who should be sorry, Eric. This is all my fault. You’re right. I thought I was keeping this secret to protect you. I shouldn’t have just assumed that if I kept you in the dark you’d still be fine.” Jack sighed, “I couldn’t make promises then. But I can now.” He waddled closer, his wing reaching out and touching his knee. “I promise the secrets are over and I’m not going anywhere.”

Eric smiled, “Feathers and all?”

“Feathers and all.”

He opened his arms, and, to Eric’s secret delight, he liked being able to hold all of Jack. He looked like he belonged on a farm, holding an entire goose in his arms like some country bumpkin. “Thank you, Jack.” He buried his face in the soft feathers, still smelling like Jack’s cologne, “How do you like it now I’m the tall one?”

Jack chuckled, “It’s a little different. I guess we should be calling me Bitty now.”

 

Eventually, they descended the stairs, Eric holding Jack like he was at a county fair, and was pleased to find that most of the inhabitants of the Haus were still asleep. Only Lardo stood near her kettle, making tea for the long day ahead trapped inside the hockey house. “Good morning, you two. How was breakfast?” She smiled over her mug of tea.

“Good. But think Jack can make better breakfast in bed than that if he had ten fingers,” Eric smiled sadly, sitting the fluff of feathers down on the end of the kitchen island.

Lardo smirked, “Don’t get your hopes up too high. When he first started out, he refused to even make toast. When he finally got his head out of his ass, he tried to cook and burned everything.”

“Excuse me, but I learned,” Jack stamped his webbed foot down insolently. “Slowly, but I learned.”

“Everyone starts out a beginner,” Eric agreed and moved over to the fridge to make the breakfast he had planned for after Thanksgiving. Attack of the leftovers would come later in the day, when everyone was awake and tending to their hangovers from last night. “I remember when I first started baking, everything I made came out a little off. But I worked hard at the bakery and I watched Mamma and even Coach cook like they were making magic happen.”

Little had he known at the time that magic was truly real. And evidence sat on the kitchen island, pecking at his feathers that had gone askew while he slept. “Hey hey, no molting at my table.”

“I don’t molt.” Lardo cleared her throat pointedly. “…a lot.”

Eric laughed easily as he whipped up some sausage and eggs for the boys, knowing the scent would tempt them down. As he and Lardo nattered on about Vietnamese breakfast foods and how Eric could get started making some basic cuisine, Shitty wandered into the kitchen, completely ignoring the fluffy goose on the table.

Instead, he walked up to Larissa and wrapped his big arms around her, their 9 inch height difference sweet. “Happy Leftovers Day!” He announced, though he winced and buried his face in her short hair at the intrusive sound of his own voice during his hangover. “Sorry…it’s loud today. Smells good, Bits.” Lardo handed him a cup of tea unceremoniously, smirking at the man chugging the hot tea like it was from the Fountain of Youth.

Turning away from Lardo and Eric, Shitty blinked when he came face to face with minor Samwell legend, The Goose. “Morning, bro. Uh, Eric, should he be up on the table like that?” He watched as the goose walked across the empty island, cleared after Thanksgiving lunch, going to Eric’s side. “I can pick him up…”

Lardo and Eric could both clearly hear Jack reply, “No thanks.” Whereas Shitty B. Knight withdrew his hands when The Goose hissed a little at him.

“No thanks,” Eric echoed as he whipped up pancake batter with ease, “Take a seat and get your strength, Mr. Knight. You’re going to be the first one out on snow patrol.”

“Snow patrol?” His mustache quivered as he looked out the kitchen window, the front lawn gone under drifts of snow, the walkway and driveway completely buried. The shirtless man shook in his boxers at how cold the morning seemed, the sky grey and the temperature below zero.

Before he could protest, Eric raised his eyebrow, “You don’t get pancakes if you don’t start clearing us out. Ransom and Holster will come take your place and you can get some pancakes.”

“Banana and peanut butter with Sriacha and an egg on top? With some of that stuffing last night?" 

“I don't know why you'd want that, but you'll get it,” The freshman promised.

Shitty went to go change.

Jack blinked, in awe of the power that his little Eric held over hockey players. “You’re like hockey Helen of Troy.”

“That’s right, sugar,” Eric chuckled. “They’ll do anything for a taste of some good home-cookin’.”

Holster came down, grabbed some coffee and went right back up the stairs. Ransom, on the other hand, took one look at Lardo and Eric talking to a goose and turned right back around, his expression blank and moving quick.

Jack would be quick to remind Eric that he had a little magic in him, too. Bringing people together over a delicious meal…and blackmailing them for snow duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter posted. For the longest time I was trying to figure out if I wanted Jack to remain silent like a goose or just go balls to the wall Swan Princess, talking birds aplenty. Which is what we have here.  
> Thank y'all! More surprises coming up soon!


	23. Love and Pie

Despite his now being covered in feathers, Eric was delighted to hear Jack's plan of being snowed in, though he doubts Jack knows quite what he's getting into. Pulling up Netflix, the pair of them are lounging on the green couch of doom, Eric flicking through the options as the boys outside begin to finish snow duty, wandering back inside shivering and covered in snow. Paying them no heed, Eric pulled up the one show he wanted to begin watching with Jack when he was, well, his normal Jack. 

"Great British Baking Show?" Jack's head tilted to the side, considering it. His low, accented voice is quiet, as though afraid the hockey team will hear anything besides the low honks and cackles he makes as a goose. 

Eric nodded, pulling up the quilts they had laid down on the couch as a "necessary health and safety precaution", settling in. "I've always wanted to watch it with you. I mean, I've seen the first season and it's... Well, I just thought you'd like it." 

Turning back to the man beside him, Jack shook his head, fluffing out his feathers as he got settled under the blanket with Eric, resting and laying his head on his arm. "We should be watching something  _you_ want to see." 

"It is..." Eric confirmed, "I just... I thought we had more time." 

"And now we do?" Jack tried to tamper down the hope that flared inside his breast. 

Eric neither confirmed nor denied it and pressed play. Almost immediately, the hockey bros migrated into the living room. "Were you talking to us, Bitty?" 

"No, I was talking to J- Darlin' here," Eric smiled, looking up at the young men shoveling down eggs, holding their plates in still cold hands.

Ransom took a deep, centering breath, "Does he talk back?" He looked like he was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, the most uncomfortable with a fowl in the Haus, and one that apparently  _talked_ , at that.

"Who? Him?" 

Ransom did not appear to enjoy that answer, but settled far away from the goose at the coffee table, sitting on the ground as the theme for the show began. 

Shitty hurried in, "Fuck yeah, this is the shit, Bits!" Together, they had watched the first season together not long after Eric had had his heart broken. 

_I just, I really wanted to share this with him. I wanted to share so much of myself with him. So much of what we could've had._

_Maybe there's still a chance for those things with him again._

 

To Eric's amusement, Jack the Goose fully enjoyed the show. He watched the bakers rush to and fro, watching with amusement but also worry. Eric can especially sense when he wanted to say something to Bitty, but keeping their conversations a secret, kept it to himself. They never had had this, a lazy day with the TV and friends all around. It's a first and it's sweet. It's a first and it's perfect. Even if Jack is a goose.

When the first episode ends, everyone goes their separate ways. Some calling home, others heading up to play video games or fall back asleep. But Eric and Jack remained, the next episode cueing up. "Did you think I was going to break the curse?" 

Jack didn't startle as Eric believed he would, still paying attention to the television. Almost concerned that Jack didn't hear him, Eric opened his mouth again but is stopped by his ex's words. 

"That was never what I wanted. I mean," Jack sighed, "I wanted you to break the curse but I didn't go after you because of it. When you first told the goose that you had found someone, I was wrecked. But that night at practice you asked me to dinner and I couldn't remember a time when I was that happy cursed. That's when I think I knew. You liked me and maybe one day the curse would break." 

"Then why didn't you just tell me, or find someone to fall in love with you quick?" 

"I don't think the spell would have liked it if I just paid someone to tell me they loved me. It had to be real, I know that. And I didn't tell you because, well, telling your boyfriend you're a goose during the day and under a curse isn't the sanest thing you could say," Jack watched as each baker explained their first bake, the illustrations appearing on the screen. "I tried hard for a forever with you. If we didn't work out then I knew one day you'd have a nice little farm in Georgia or somewhere where I could waddle around and watch you bake. Watch you dance in the kitchen. And that would have been enough for me." 

Eric felt his throat close, his eyes cast downward, "No it wouldn't have. You would have found someone else." 

Even as a goose, it's plain as day that Jack doesn't believe Eric. "There is no one else like you that I have ever met, Bud, and I won't meet someone like you again." 

As the show continued, he felt himself open his heart once more to Jack, to the idea that maybe, just maybe, this love that Jack felt towards him was not as unrequited as he believed. Could he find the strength to love him again? As he pictured a life without Jack, he knew that what he had been telling himself wasn't there, had been waiting all along for him to return. As the day wore away and Thanksgiving was reheated and people once more retired to the living room or their bedrooms, Eric looked out his window, sunset nearly upon them. The day had been wonderful. Jack, as a goose and as a man, had been quiet, attentive, and had even dragged a whole bottle of water with his mouth into the living room for Eric. 

The last thing that Eric had expected when he met Jack Zimmermann was how he could make him laugh. 

"So, you're turning back soon?" 

"Always at sunset, when the sun no longer shines on Samwell's lake," Jack agreed, waiting to become a man once more. He waddled over and yanked at Eric's comforter on the bed, getting inside it. "I will be naked, so..." 

Eric felt his face heat up, to distract himself from that mental image, he asked Jack another question in what had felt like an endless stream all day, "What would you do if the curse was broken?" He half suspected Jack would bolt for the hills, never to return. 

"Do you want honesty?" 

Timidly, Eric nodded. "I'd finish my degree and there wouldn't be a day that goes by that I don't try to show you just how much I love you. I'd reconnect with my parents, I'd settle things with Kent, I'd graduate and see if I could start intensive training and get back into hockey," Jack paused and took another deep breath, "I'm sorry for wanting to go so public and loud so fast before. I wasn't considerate of how you wanted to come out but... But I'd wait until you graduated to ask you to be my husband, if you were ready. I'd want a dog, big house, the works." 

A hand reached up to cover his mouth, surprised by what he heard. "Oh Jack..."

With a flash of light, Jack's hand gently rested on Eric's shoulder as he tried to keep his shoulders to stop shaking. "I'm sorry, if that was a lot. It's a lot to talk about and I dumped it all on you and--" Cut off by a kiss, Jack froze before wrapping his arm around Eric on the bed, his other large hand cradling his cheek. "Oh, Bits, I love you so much." 

"Tell me how to break this curse," Eric murmured against Jack's lips. "I love you, too. We'll get through this together." His heart had opened again, though it barely seemed closed in the first place. The secrets were gone between them. What lay ahead was nothing less than what he had always wished for with Jack. The curse would break and they both would finally get their happily ever after. 

"Well, what we have to-- Bits!" Shielding his boyfriend's body with his own, the pair tumbled back, away from the screaming man that had crash landed from nowhere into their room.

Summoned by the curse, Kent Parson, dressed in jogging shorts, athletic shorts and a Las Vegas Aces snapback, looked around, panicked before his gaze finally settled on a very naked Jack Zimmerman in bed with a young man. "Hey, uh, long time no see." 


	24. Parson and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kent's POV

Kent Parson had had no actual fucking idea what would happen when he cursed Jack. He had dabbled in magic before, though recreationally. Summoning the power necessary for such a curse, for such a lesson he wanted to teach his best friend, would require nothing but the best.

Kent Parson was not the best. 

After casting the spell of feathers and solitude, the young man had been consumed with guilt. Who was he to teach his best friend, his only friend, in the world what love was? What courage in loving someone meant? It wasn't his place to just fuck with a person's life with that. But like magic itself, Kent was known to be fickle and flighty. But what he hadn't counted on was his power. Now that he wanted to break the curse for his friend, the spell held so much power that even he, the one who made it, could not sever its hold on Jack Zimmermann.

But had managed to ensure that when the curse would soon break, he would be there to make sure it all went right. That he could do the most he could for the friend that he wanted to help so much. 

Jogging with Alexei Mashkov had always been fun, had always been intimate though he was sure there was nothing more public that they did. In the same draft, Mashkov had been the Las Vegas Ace's second pick in the draft, just narrowly grabbed up before the Schooners could get a hold of him. They had been inseparable ever since. Especially since his Aloysha had a bit of magic up his sleeve of his own. But as they jogged on that warm evening, he found himself taking another stride forward and propelled into the unknown, crashing into a fucking dorm room? 

Jack blinked, shocked, "Kenny? Oh fuck,  _Kenny_?" He looked around Eric's room, as though something hidden in a Beyoncé poster or stack of textbooks would reveal why he would abruptly appear in his boyfriend's bedroom. 

"Hey, Zimms. I see you got yourself a--whoa, fuck!" Moving out of the way, Kent dodged pillows being thrown his way. 

A very angry blonde, cute and fierce, stood up on the bed, looking down at him, "You! You're the one who cursed him!"

"I have a name, you know. It's Ken--" 

Bitty whistled lowly, his drawl coming in full, "Oh, I don't give a rat's ass what your trading card says. You just dropped this man in a university as a goose for half the time and you just disappear?" 

Kent frowned, getting testy, "I'm very happy for you, but if you just want to sit down and let me and Zimms--" 

"Oh look at you! Big guy, huh? You're no bigger'n a minnow in a fishing pond," Eric put his hands on his hips, descending from his place on the mattress, facing the NHL player head on. "Now I suggest you be shutting your mouth because you weren't the one who picked up the pieces around here." 

Maybe adding this to the curse was a bad idea. 

Getting between the pair, Jack placed a hand on both of their chests, "Hey, hey. We'll figure this out, okay?" Blushing, he grabbed the blanket from the bed, wrapping it around himself when he realized he was naked. Oh wow, Jack had kept himself up. Probably trying to maintain his muscle strength. "I'll call my folks, think you can help out on your end, Kent?" 

Still looking over at the little southern spitfire, Kent nodded, "I need to call my boyfriend, too. He'll be wondering where I disappeared to." 

Jack took his cell phone and took a shaking breath, leaving the bedroom to place his call to his parents. The boyfriend looked on, concerned, "I'll be right here if you need anything." 

Placing his own call was entertaining. Alexei could only laugh and insist that the curse on Zimmermann must have been ready to break. He kept nothing from him and loved it that way. After calling across the country, Kent, irritated, was wondering how he was going to get back home after all of this when every major airport was closed, when he caught sight of Jack's guy. 

This was the one who was going to break the curse. From the way he reamed into him, it sounded like he knew the whole story. He looked attractive, a confirmation that Jack definitely had a thing for blondes, but that's not what caught his gaze. The young man seemed to be waiting for, living for, that call happening in the hallway. Who knew how long it had been since Bob and Alicia, second parents to him, had heard from their son? 

Now it was Kent's turn to help break the curse that kept them separated. 

"So, you love him?" 

Barely giving Kent a second glance, the guy nodded, watching the closed door. "Yes, I do." Certainly enough to know what phone calls and his parents did for Jack's anxiety. "Sorry for getting snippy. Jack's been through so much already, we both have, the last thing I needed was for more problems to get in our way." 

"Well, I'm not here to be a problem. I'm here to be part of the solution. I'm here to make sure he gets his whole world watching," Kent shifted uncomfortably. 

Narrowing his eyes, the young man spoke, "You better be. My name is Eric. You must be Kent." 

"Kent Parson, yes." Reaching over to shake Eric's hand, the man leaned away. "Don't worry, you won't catch any bad spells. I'm not that good." He winked.

Eric worried his lip between his teeth, obviously on edge for Jack's sake, he shook his hand quickly but held his hand for a moment longer, "I think we're both ready for him to lose the feathers. You can really help with that? I don't want him to... I don't know him before this curse and I'm just worried." 

Kent squeezed his hand, "Eric, just from seeing him again, I know that he's a changed man. This is what I wanted for him. You are what I wished for him. Someone to love him and give him the support he needs. Someone that will bring him down to Earth. I see that in you. You just chucked four pillows at me. Jack is strong, but we can be strong with him." 

When Jack walked back in, his eyes obviously red and his breathing a little ragged, Eric also started the water works, hurrying into the tall man's arms. "I'm here for you, Jack. Did the call go well?" Kent's eyes drifted back down to his phone where he had finished composing another email, ready to send it out. 

"It went great. I'm ready. Maman and Papa can't wait to meet you," Jack chuckled. "But are  _you_ ready? Ready to be seen as the one I love for the whole world to see?" 

Kent could feel the pause between them, but the way Eric answered seemed nothing short of confident, "Yes I am. We can enjoy our privacy later. Kent?" 

His drafts folder and messaging app swollen with unsent texts and drafts of emails, Kent stood from his seat at the desk, his thumb hovering over the screen. "Once we do this, there's no going back." 

An arm securely around Eric's waist, Jack shook his head, "I never want to go back again." 

Kent lifted his phone in response and hit speed dial, not having to wait long for someone to pick up. "Barry? This is Kent Parson, you won't believe who's back." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry is a reference to Barry Melrose, the NHL analyst, former player, and ESPN commentator.


	25. Far Longer Than Forever and Pie

Eric had never been to a press conference before. He'd answered questions to a local news station about their bakery once and occasionally threw some baking videos on YouTube but as soon as he arrived with Jack, they were flanked with Kent's hired bodyguards, given passes into the convention hall where the conference was happening, and whisked away. Eric didn't stop holding Jack's hand once. They had insisted on an evening announcement and the days leading up to this had been nerve-wracking but also sweet. Eric and Jack spent more time together than they had before, sleeping during the day, cuddled up on the couch and staying awake in the night to talk and dream and plan. Eric felt so light and happy, walking on clouds instead of solid ground.

Jack would only take three questions, that had been from the get go. They'd let him talk, he'd answer three questions, and leave the way he'd come. At some point, with the reporters, cameras, and smart phones watching, Jack would confess his love to Eric to the world. Hopefully smoothly, hopefully without throwing up or crying, which Eric felt like doing at the same time when he saw just how many people with big, fancy cameras were around. Led straight to a small room to prepare before the conference, Eric gave Jack some water, a comfy seat, and a shoulder rub. "Can you believe that no one had heard of a Princess Cake?" 

"Babe, I've never heard of a Princess Cake," Jack teased as he leaned into Eric's hands, closing his eyes. "I love you." 

Eric kissed the top of his head, at his baseball cap of Samwell University. "I know. You've been telling me for days. I love you, too. Nervous?" A pointless question, sure, but together they could do this. "I'll be there the whole time." 

Turning to look up at his boyfriend, Eric felt the stirrings of butterflies in his stomach. How was that even possible after all these months? "For how long?" The light in his blue eyes, those eyes that shone as a goose and as a man. His hands settled on his hips pulling him close. "A week? A day? A month?" 

"Forever, Jack," Eric's voice was quiet, gentle.

"Forever?" Jack pretended to consider it. "Any chance you could do longer?" 

"Longer than forever?" Eric giggled, cupping his jaw. 

"Far,  _far_ longer than forever." 

 

"Good evening, my name is Jack Zimmermann. Many of you would know me from my work with Kent Parsons in Juniors at the Q and working with the wonderful men and women of hockey leading up to my opportunity to participate in the NHL draft two years ago. Most of you, however, would know me as the son of Alicia and "Bad Bob" Zimmermann. As a child and growing up, I faced an exorbitant amount of pressure to live up to my parents' collective legacy, especially in the world of hockey. I remember being eleven and frantically collecting numbers and doing the math in order to live up to my dad's stats and having to excuse myself from the classroom when my math always came up short. I came up short every time, in my eyes," Jack took a deep breath and looked off the side of the platform to Bitty, who was sitting there, already with a tissue in hand. 

"I not only wanted to live up to the numbers and accolades my father won, but also be as kind and good to the fans as he is. My father never pressured me into hockey, nor my mother, and they have told me every day throughout my life how much they love me for me. However, I placed the pressure to surpass their expectations on myself at too young an age and did not reach out for support for my mental health and worked as hard as I could on the game. As some of you know, this affected my relationship with players, analysts, and fans. I'm ashamed to look back at my actions, how cold and rude I was to hardworking players not unlike me who had the same dream. I'd like to take this moment and apologize to those I hurt. By keeping others at bay and calling to attention the setbacks of others I believed in my adolescence I could distract from my own worries and anxieties," Jack paused for a moment, "I'm sorry." Even Bitty wasn't sure if that was directed towards the players or for taking a short break in all his talking. He was so strong and besides the clicks of cameras and scribbling on paper, the reporters were silent. 

"Before the NHL Draft, I spoke at length with Kent Parson who helped open my eyes to how I was turning a game I loved as a kid into something that was hurting others and myself. I decided to not attend the draft and traveled across The United States without aim until I came and enrolled myself in my mother's alma mater, Samwell University. If such an institution helped foster the woman I admired and loved so much, perhaps, I believed, it could help change my perspective on my own life and what hockey meant to me. I did not play on the Samwell team, however, I did develop a close friendship with the student manager and players who reminded me of my love for the game and the bond between teammates. I'd like to thank them, especially Larissa Duan, my professors, and counselors who helped me through this difficult time," Jack paused to look up from his meticulous notes and smiled at the cameras. "Thank you." 

Rolling his shoulders, Jack faced the cameras again. "I like to believe I'm a changed man and would like to announce that after, and only after, my graduation from Samwell University, I would like to submit myself independently to the world of professional hockey." The cameras really clicked now. "My future, I believe, is a bright one. During my absence, I did not reveal my location but assured my parents I was alive but moving and unsure of the path I'd take. The path I'm now on involves my good friends, educators, therapist, and family, and someone very special in my life." He turned to look at Eric standing just beside the platform where Jack sat with his table and notes. "I was initially terrified to admit to myself and the world of the NHL that I am bisexual. I believe that professional sports, including the NHL, are on a path of inclusion and equality among players. Who I love should not have to terrify me into silence or denial. While at Samwell, I found the love of my life, Eric, look forward to sharing in our future life together, far longer than forever," Jack winked off stage and Bitty swore that he was redder'n a ripe tomato. 

"Regardless of your personal opinion on the rights of LGBT players and people, I announce here and now that I love him, regardless of your approval. I'll take only three questions, thank you," Jack leaned back, the weight he carried on his chest for so many years, gone. The questions were loud and all at once, picking a person at random was dangerous, so he selected carefully. 

Pointing out to a young man in the crowd, Jack nodded for them to ask their question. "This is a lot to take in. What do you say in response to the rumors made about your disappearance?" 

Jack nodded, "Many of them said that I was addicted to drugs or alcohol or any other substances and this is not true. I have never and don't plan on taking drugs of any kind, and have inherited my father's dislike for drinking. However, I'd like to call to light how important it is to seek help and support from loved ones and professionals if anyone is suffering from alcohol or drug dependence." 

Jack took a risk and pointed to the next person, an older man with a loud tie, "Don't you think coming out as gay will hurt your professional chances? Keeping it quiet at least would have--" 

"Thank you, I heard one question and I'll answer it. I've maintained my training regimen and have added to it but have lacked a trainer's eye. I have a few more years of getting back to better than how I was after Juniors and will be ready to enter the professional hockey world independently. My sexuality, I believe, doesn't have any bearing on this. And I didn't come out as gay, I came out as bisexual, you can quote me on that and please get it correct. Keeping a part of myself quiet that I shouldn't be ashamed of has no bearing on the ice. I've been bi my whole life," Jack could feel a dig biting at his tongue, at what he used to say before the curse,  _if anything, I was bi and better than anyone else on the ice_. But he looked over at Kent and Bitty and felt himself relax, centering himself, "and I hope to be someone young people can look to and know that You Can Play is right. No matter who you love, you can still love what you do. And I love hockey. Next question?" 

He chose a young woman near the front, "This question is for Eric?" 

Surprised and a bit shaky, Eric came out from beside the platform partition, walking into his own coming out alongside Jack. It was terrifying, especially those savage clicks from cameras and the red eyes of news cameras staring at him. He walked up on the platform and sat next to Jack, who leaned over and  _kissed him on the cheek what_. He blushed and managed to say without giggling, "Yes?" 

"How did you two meet?" 

Eric turned and looked at Jack and chuckled, "So, I bake pie and I had some maple cream pie with me near the lake one day..." 

* * *

Laying there in the darkness of the early morning, it was around 7:15 and Eric memorized when the sun would come up the next day. They lay there, holding each other in Eric's bed, quiet. "Even if it doesn't work, even if it doesn't work I'll always love you, Jack," Eric whispered, knowing full well the man in his arms wasn't asleep. He pressed a kiss to the man's chest, bare and warm. "We'll figure it out somehow. You can live on my farm," he tried to tease. "Jack?"

In the quiet, Eric was unsure if Jack was upset or not, if he was worried or anxious. Finally, he whispered, "What if we made it worse and you turn into a swan?" 

Snorting, Eric smacked his chest, "If that happens, I'm quitting school, I'm barely passing, anyway," he snickered, feeling Jack's lips press into his hair. "It'll be okay, Jack." 

"I know. I'll have you." 

Before Eric could respond, a light, similar to the one that had glowed in his throat before, came alive in his chest, spreading out, glowing under his skin. "Jack? Jack!" Bitty scooted back, watching as Jack's face contorted with pain. No no no no no… This looked exactly like what happened before he changed back into a goose. "Please please please..." He begged to no one in particular. 

Standing in the sheets before him was a goose. Taking a shuddering breath, Eric tried hard not to cry, and did not succeed in the slightest. 

 

Head aching, his muscles tired from fatigue, Eric seemed to finish crying. "We'll try again," he hiccupped. "We can always try again." 

Jack hadn't lifted his head up in so long, the sun fully in the sky on that snowy day. Eric pressed a kiss to the top of his head, "I love you, Bits..." 

"I love you, too, Darlin'," Eric smiled sadly, "Now go get me my Pop Tart breakfast in bed. I need to get changed." Jack waddled to the edge of the bed and frowned at the distance from the mattress down to the ground. He hated this jump and wished Eric would install a ramp already. Now that he was still a goose, they had time to fix it. With one cautious leg down, he moved forward and tumbled out of the bed so hard it shook the Haus. 

Jack sat there, naked as a baby, on the floor, as a human. 

Eric leaned over the edge of the bed, a terrified, "What the fuck?" Being his only words. "What did you do, Jack?" 

"Maybe it became later? I change into a goose later in the day?" He was completely unsure in every sense of the word. He stared down at his hands. "I was just thinking about how..." 

With a thump again, Jack moved forward as a goose, flapping his wings. Eric blinked, his eyes wider than they had ever been. "Jack? Think about turning into a man." 

Jack the man appeared where the goose was, without prompting, he tried it again, becoming a goose, and then stayed as a man, feeling a little nauseous. "Holy shit, Bits. I can turn into a goose." 

Bitty stood up, his shoulders shaking as he took in Jack in the morning light, in the daylight. "Oh my god..." He whispered, "How completely pointless to have that ability. Thanks, Kent." He tried to tease but his crying interrupted him. Opening his arms, Jack kissed every part of Eric he could reach, his head, ears, jaw, eyes, nose, finally ending at his mouth. 

"And they all lived happily ever after," Eric murmured, looking up at Jack with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

"How about honkily ever after?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"Hockey-ly?" 

"You are ruining the moment," Eric finally laughed. "How about they were happy and in love for far longer than forever?"

Jack answered with his own version of true love's kiss. 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everything, y'all. Sorry this ending was so rushed, but I've got such big ideas for later fics burning a hole in my pocket. Stay tuned for more ridiculous AUs.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be gentle with me it's my first fic though I've RPed for years.  
> Also, the locations in this fic are based off of the map that Ngozi provided of Samwell, details were added not to be mean but to add some fic clarity. Also my dates aren’t exactly right (like the NHL draft is in June instead of August, sorry)  
> The rating is due to some drinkin' and kissin' and language and eventual sexy times - obviously not with a goose but definitely with a magic goose man.  
> Also, it's a Canada goose not Canadian goose as they are not citizens of Canada or pay taxes, though in this case the goose is a Canadian man.  
> Also also AO3 HTML confuses me, sorry for any formatting errors.


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